Paean
by Empatheia
Summary: -Inupapa x Izayoi- She is broken, he is betrayed, and all they have left is each other. This is not the path they would have chosen for themselves had the fates been kinder. -Renamed from 'Once Upon an Inuyoukai.'-
1. Once Upon a Time

**A/N: **Hello all! Empatheia here with my first long fanfiction.

Welcome to my version of Izayoi and the Inu no Taisho's story! It's longish and will eventually match up to canon (ie, those _whole eight minutes _in the third movie).

**Warnings:**

1.) There are original characters in this. There simply aren't enough 'canon' characters to cover all the roles I needed, so I had to make some up. Hopefully you will like them. If you don't, I don't care.

2.) Take the 'M' rating seriously. What sex does occur will not be overly graphic, but there will be rather a lot of violence and flying guts.

3.) Inupapa x Izayoi is not the only pairing in the story, for either of them. If you're worried about how the fic will end, watch the third movie. That should answer all your questions.

Whatever other warnings come up, I will inform you of at the beginning of the chapter in question. Therefore, please read the author's notes before leaving reviewing all in a huff. Thanks.

This story is in the process of being beta'd by the wonderful and talented **ALF**, and it will be better when she is done. All mistakes belong to me.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Inuyasha or anything to do with it. It belongs to the immortal Rumiko Takahashi, may she live in peace and prosperity for all her days. This disclaimer will apply to the rest of the fic in its entirety.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter 1: Once Upon a Time**_

**xxxxx**

_If it bleeds, we can kill it. -Arnold Schwarzenegger_

Blood.

There was blood everywhere.

_Everywhere_.

It was under his claws, dripping from his moon-pale hair, in his mouth. His clothes, once pristine white and pure, were crimson with vengeance. They _dared!_ They were only humans. Where had this come from, this stupid, slow courage that allowed them to disregard the obvious outcome and attack what was his?

The village was not important to his holdings. It was small, backwards, tucked away in a corner of his land. Only lower-level youkai resided there, the pack animals and pests of the demon world. But it belonged to him. The Dog Lord _never_ suffered any creature to touch what was his. And the village, worthless as it was, belonged to him. Was his responsibility.

Inutaisho whirled smoothly and gutted yet another soldier. A human. A man. Soft and breakable like putty left too long in the sun. The soft sucking sound his claws made when he retracted them from the soldier's stomach fell dead in the air. The stench of innards falling out into open air clogged his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose.

He contemplated the possibility that he had grown complacent.

The humans resided in isolated villages and small cities throughout Nihon, or Nippon as the idiot outsiders were calling it, and the youkai let them be. They tilled the land, invented things, built things, and tithed to the youkai accordingly. It was a useful arrangement that had been in place for centuries. Possibly millennia, now. But something had changed just recently. Before, the humans never failed to recognize where authority truly lay-- in the hands of the four demon lords, who each ruled the lands to a cardinal direction.

Inutaisho was Lord of the Western Lands, a dog demon, and thus fiercely protective of his domain and subjects.

The day before, the humans had done something unprecedented- they had organized an army and wiped out a youkai village. Armies were permitted, as the humans had an insatiable need to slaughter each other, but it was mutely understood that the wars must be confined to humans only.

And they had been. Until yesterday.

Once again, the mute rage welled up and Inutaisho howled as he dismembered the next trembling, urine-soaked soldier. There were few left. The idiots had returned to their home village, so their wives and children were also fair game. At the very least, they would have to watch their husbands and fathers die in ignominy under the demon lord's claws.

There was so much blood.

Of a sudden, he became aware of an eerie silence. His claws reached out and found nothing. The conclusion soon followed that they were all dead, or escaped. He felt curiously empty, and suddenly very, very tired_._ Vengeance was wreaked.

_All in a day's work. _

He sighed wearily and shook himself, flinging viscous droplets all over the dust of the street. His clothes were ruined. Again. His tailor would be quietly furious, and would probably 'accidentally' leave a few pins in the fabric when he went for measurement again. (The tailor was ancient and well loved, else Inutaisho might have taken umbrage at his gall.)

Head filled with mundane details of the paperwork awaiting him back at the castle, he wandered down the street, thoughtlessly avoiding the sprawled corpses. He'd send scavenger youkai in later to clean up.

It was approaching morning, he dimly noted. The sky was aflame to the East. The whole slaughter had not taken as long as it had taken to fly there.

_How pathetic_.

His nose twitched disdainfully, and so, almost by accident, he caught the wafting scent on the breeze. In the midst of the carnage, the stench of blood and feces and urine and vomit, it was like wildflowers in the mountains. He found himself trying to identify it, with little success. It was not one single scent, but the scent of an entire scene-- spritely waterfall, spring wind, and setting sun included.

Despite himself, he inhaled deeply, and of their own volition his feet followed the sweet trail.

A door stopped him. He gazed at it muzzily. He really was extraordinarily weary-- sleep had eluded him for several days now. Perhaps there was a bed inside he could lay down on for a few minutes? At least until phantom scents stopped tormenting him. Yes. That sounded acceptable. He obliterated the door, being too tired to even begin looking for the knob. Out of the suddenly vacant space, then, the mysterious smell flooded, until he was nearly drunk with it.

He staggered inside in pursuit of it. It was so lovely, really. Perhaps he woud take whatever it belonged to back to the castle with him and keep it captive so he could have this whenever he liked--

A sudden indrawn breath drew his attention.

Inutaisho frowned, pleasant daydreams cut short.

A woman. What a pity.

He really had little stomach for killing women. It seemed beneath him somehow. But she was in his way, and clutching a dagger, no less. Fool.

An extraordinary idea occurred to him then. He had _options_. He could kill her, yes. Or he could brush past her and go to sleep. (Whereupon she would use that flimsy dagger she clutched.)

Or. Or... he could be merciful. He examined the thought carefully, trying to determine where it had come from. The great Inutaisho was not merciful whenever he could help it. It was a dangerous thing to do, tended to give the people _ideas_

"If you wish to live, get out. Go elsewhere and do not return." Now where had that come from? Very curious.

She began to shake, almost imperceptably to the human eye, but she did not weep, or beg. Or run. Apparently, she was not very intelligent.

Instead, she lunged towards him with the dagger outstretched, desperation and total resignation written in her eyes. A flash of what might have been admiration skittered through his brain, but was quickly ignored.

Easy as breath, he flowed around her pathetically slow thrust and within fractions of a second was behind her, holding her dagger-laden hand to her slim throat. She gasped, and a tear squeezed out of her left eye. It would have only taken a twitch, a ghost of a movement on his part, to sever the soft column and leave her gushing yet more blood onto the already-filthy floor.

But he had run up against an unexpected obstacle. His face, his traitorous nose specifically, was planted firmly in her voluminous mass of impossibly fragrant hair. He was swimming in delight, the phantom scent suddenly made real and even more exquisite up this close. He found himself inexplicably loath to sully that sweetness with the bitter iron tang of blood.

Damn.

"I told you once. Leave. Now. You will not be warned again." It was a very good thing, he speculated, that his subordinates were not seeing this. They would think him dangerously weak and start plotting. Again. It was never-ending. He roughly released her, pushing her away.

She stumbled and caught herself on the stairwell. Then, incredibly, she straightened and glared at him. At _him_. She must be resigned to death to be so reckless, he thought. Her eyes were dark and limpid, like quiet pools in autumn woods, still and deep and contemplative. Her soft hair fell in clouds about her slender shoulders, falling to her knees. She was young, and fit, and healthy, doubtless with a long happy life ahead of her.

Unfortunately, she was also staring at the Lord of the Western Lands defiantly. How very foolish.

Without a word, he strode past her and ascended the stairs. She stared after him incredulously. "Monster! What are you doing? There are children up there!"

_Oh_. How had he missed their banshee squalling? He hated killing children. They were so weak and defenseless, it seemed unnecessarily petty, like methodically stepping on ants or tearing wings off flies.

"Remove them." There. That sounded properly aloof and lordly.

She drew a long, steadying breath, then let it out in a defeated sigh and climbed the stairs behind him. "Why are you doing this? You killed all the men. We have no one to care for us. Without the men to protect us and hunt for us, we will die soon anyways. Why bother leaving us alive?"

He stared at her. She was practically _asking _him to slaughter her and the children. Was she mad?

"Are you mad?" he blurted, astonished at his lack of control. "Do you _want_ me to kill you all?"

Her eyes fell. "No!" she cried, panicked for a moment. But then, creeping speculation crawled over her face. "Death is inevitable," she whispered then. "Either by your claws instantly, or picked off one by one by stray demons and wild creatures. For the babies... slow starvation, as too many of them are orphans now for the living to care for them. I only wish to prevent their prolonged suffering. So... yes. It would be the most merciful thing." She paused, seemingly astonished at the darkness that flowed from her mouth. She turned her face away, hiding in her hair. "Though it tears my heart from my chest to say it."

He had gone beyond astonishment. In his experience, human women always fought to the death to protect their young. They did not think like this, logical and clearheaded through the ever-present compassion. They were flighty, impulsive, and never thinking beyond the moment. She sounded positively... _demonic?_. He found himself unsure of how to react. So he did whatever the first thing to come to mind was.

As it turned out, what came to mind was the truth. "Killing children is beneath me," he announced. "They are too weak to merit any attention. Remove them, or I may be convinced to lower myself after all." The last he spoke with a hint of a menacing hiss, and she quaked, though she hid it well. She fled his cold gaze up the stairs, and returned moments later with a bevy of women and shrieking children in tow.

The terrified women inched past him, then bolted as soon as they figured themselves out of his reach. He heaved a sigh of relief once they were gone. The stench of fear had been making him nauseous, and the noise level was simply intolerable. He realized suddenly that they had not all left. "What do you want now, woman?" he snapped, finally on the edge of his tolerance.

"My name is Izayoi, not woman," she snapped back without thought. Then she caught herself, took a deep breath, and... "Thank you," she murmured, and swept out gracefully.

And damn it, he was staring again. This was ridiculous. He firmly shoved the woman from his mind and collapsed on the first bed he found, never mind that it stank of baby excrement and unwashed woman. Compared to the carnage outside, it smelled like roses. He passed gratefully into unconsciousness.

xxxxx

Izayoi pressed her back against the closed door and gulped air as fast as she could. She had thought herself resigned to death, but when it came for her in the form of a silver-haired demon and her own dagger, she had found herself woefully unprepared. She had spoken so coldly of mercy killing to the demon, but after the fact, her heart thundered in her chest and she gasped in pain at how close she had come to getting them all killed. Now, in the daylight, their chances didn't seem so bad. She could use a bow and arrow, the dagger at her side, and her fists, and several of the other women were also not completely unskilled. They could probably hold out until they reached the next village.

The image of the demon was still etched across her eyeballs, and she was afraid he would be there for a long time yet. He had been so _tall_. The top of her head barely came to his chest. He was all in white, like an angel, except where he was spattered and soaked in the blood of the villagers. An angel of death, then. His hair, long and fine and an impossible shade of silver, had been scraped up severely into a tight queue pierced and held in place by long lacquered pins. And his _face,_ that inhuman face with its deep blue cheek markings, aristocratic high forehead, and the _eyes_. They were cold as metal, glowing golden in the dim light of the foyer.

He had been beautiful. Somehow, she had never expected death to be beautiful.

She looked at the huddled cluster of nine women and twelve babies, and her heart clenched. _Still alive, no thanks to me_, she thought. _I'm such an idiot! _ _I'm so lucky he didn't take me up on the offer. Well, but then I would be dead and not inclined to feel guilty, right? Hopefully. Unless there really is an afterlife, in which case... _

"Izayoi? What are we going to do?" The whimpering women drew her attention back. She gathered her thoughts with an effort, and stepped away from the door.

"Find provisions, as much as you can carry. Warm clothing and blankets. No personal belongings that you can't fit in your sash. Also, bring all your savings. We may need to buy our provisions from here on out. Any questions?" She gazed around at the pile of quivering womanflesh and winced. Getting all of them to safety alive was going to be quite a task.

"Where is the monster?" Migane asked timidly. It took a moment for Izayoi to figure out what she meant.

"The demon? He is upstairs. I believe he is resting. Do not get any foolish ideas about killing him in his sleep-- he is a dog demon, his hearing is far superior to ours. He would wake up before you got within twenty feet. So no heroics. Understood?"

They nodded vehemently. The idea had obviously not crossed their minds, the spineless, blithering fools.

Having been raised among demons, she had understood somewhat their contempt for human weakness, though she loved the decidedly weaker race as no demon ever would, and saw their strengths as well. Ishihara Izayoi was the daughter of Ishihara Tokoge, the liaison officer and diplomat who presided over relations between the Eastern human tribes and the Lord of the East, Ryuunomei the dragon demon. She had grown up in an atmosphere of intrigue and tension, and had little fear of demons in general. But she had never met the Western Lord before, and was shaken to find that he was stronger still than Ryuunomei, who had always been the epitome of power to her. His _youki, _or demon aura, flooded the entire region.

She was no holy woman, but long exposure to demons had sharpened her supernatural senses, and she could sense and guage _youki_ with the best of them. Inutaisho's was nearly causing an electric spark dance between the hairs on her arms. She shivered. The sooner they were out of the range of that incredible aura, the better.

She took two babies out of the arms of the overburdened women and shooed them off. "Go on, do as I said. We shouldn't waste the daylight."

xxxxx

When he woke, it was still daylight, but only barely. The sun was setting. A whole day!

He leapt from the rancid bed, noting with distaste that his bloody clothes were now dry, and rather stiff. How vile.

After a brief search around the house, he located a serviceable pair of _haori _and _hakama. _Though they were a little short on his tall form, they were a hundred times better than continuing to walk around in his filthy battle garb. Once acceptably covered, he leapt out the window and took to the skies, cringing at the feeling of clean wind whistling through his chunky, clotted hair. At least it was no longer dripping. There was a hot spring not far from there, his nose told him, and he arrowed for it as fast as he could.

He hatedbeing dirty.

xxxxx

"Please! Izayoi, we're tired! Can't we please stop now? It's getting dark!"

She hissed between her teeth. There was still a good hour of daylight left, and she hated to waste it. Who knew how far the next village was? It could be days away, even weeks. The less time they rested, the sooner they'd arrive. Assuming they didn't all die of exhaustion first.

She heaved a sigh. "Set up camp." The women rejoiced, quietly, and within minutes had a fire, a meal going on the fire, and bedrolls neatly arranged. She itched to continue, but she could see that the women, unused to long hours of walking, were exhausted. They would burn out if she pushed them further.

_Damn_. She could almost hear the wild animals beginning to stir around them, beginning their nightly hunt. If they went unmolested that night, she would be very suprised indeed.

On the positive side, she had noticed the signs and knew there was a hot spring not far from here. While they rested, she would go cleanse herself. She was sticky with sweat and road dust, and a little rank with the bitter scent of fear.

She hated being dirty.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!

If you're interested, the lovely **Vega Sailor** drew cover art for this story. The link can be found on my profile page.


	2. The Color Red

**A/N: **A few notes, actually.

1.) I was not original enough to come up with my own name for the Inu no Taisho, but I didn't want to type 'Inu no Taisho' all the time because it's annoying and unwieldy. Thus, I am hopping on the bandwagon for once and borrowing 'Inutaisho.'

2.) Ages and dates and things in this are not always quite right. I tend to warp things to fit my twisted vision of how they should be. If you notice something off-kilter, smile and pretend I'm right.

3.) I know that in the movie Izayoi was heavily implied to be of the noble class. By the time I'm through with her, this will be mostly correct.

That is all. On with the chapter.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter II: The Colour Red**_

**xxxxx**

_It is a mistake to say that there is no bath that will cure people's manners... drowning would help. -Mark Twain_

There were few things in the world that Inutaisho loved more than a good bath, and so he was most displeased when his luxurious soak was interrupted by the ungodly shrieking of a dozen babies and nearly as many women. He threw himself under the water and clapped his hands over his ears to try and block the sound.

It did not work.

_What in the worlds? _he wondered, holding his breath and hoping their throats split and bled them into silence or they died or _something_ to stop the infernal noise. He held out as long as he could, until the breath burst from his lungs and he was forced to surface. The moment he did, the newly familiar scent of mountain meadows assailed him and he froze.

_Her name was Izayoi_, he thought inanely. Then his focus sharpened abruptly.

He could also smell wolves. They were near the border with the north. Kouma's clan were trespassing, but not enough to warrant retaliation. By all rights he should just let the wolves eat them. Would serve them right, wouldn't it? Their husbands had wiped out a whole village of his subjects. But then again, they were only women. What could they have done to stop them? _Probably nothing_, he admitted. Still! They were human, and therefore no concern of his.

Thus, he was extraordinarily suprised to find himself midthought in midair over their encampment.

Most of the babies were dead. A knot of four women stood back to back wielding knives and barely holding their own.

And on a tree branch above the campsite perched Izayoi. She was grimly picking the wolves off with her arrows, one by one, with perfect, focused aim. Her dark green haori billowed in the wind, and her hair was tied back with a black ribbon. She was almost beautiful. She was not, however, a demon, and so whatever fleeting appreciation he had for her ethereal beauty quickly fled. She was just a human woman, who was going to die.

His tapered ears pricked up. She was talking to herself as she fired. "Damn it, my lord Ryuunomei, this is your fault! I swear, if I ever see you again I'll..."

His eyes bugged. _Ryuunomei? Lord of the East? Impossible!_

"Why in the heavens did you dump this blasted talisman on me? If I die, it falls into their hands, and then where will you be? Up the bloody creek without a paddle, that's where. Stupid, sourfaced, scaly worm! Bastard! Thrice-cursed son of a lizard!"

A helpless chuckle escaped his throat. He had never heard a human, or anyone for that matter, call the mighty Ryuunomei any of the varied and inventive epithets she'd just layered on him. She had courage to spare, that was for certain. And she spoke of him in such familiar terms! Very curious. And what was this talk of a talisman?

There was also something in her voice, a lonely ache badly surpressed, that was incongruous with her flippant words. It was that more than anything, no matter what he told himself, that made him take action. He felt compelled by his last shred of moral decency. It was a small shred, but it was there and it was noisy.

Before he could think of it too much, he descended on the clearing like an avenging angel. The wolves howled in sudden fear, not understanding how they were now losing what had been a massacre only moments before. Warm, iron-tanged blood flew in strings through the cacophony to hiss into the snow unnoticed. There was fur stuck in his claws. He hated that. So he killed them a little extra, just for good measure.

It took barely three deep breaths for him to completely clear the little meadow of living wolves. He'd leave clearing it of dead ones to the women... whom he had just saved for no reason that made any sense to him.

There were perhaps three babies left, and four women including Izayoi. The clearing was drenched in blood. He sniffed. His outfit was yet _again_ ruined. Twice in as many days. He hoped it wasn't the beginning of a pattern.

"You," a voice behind him breathed. He turned to confront a rather filthy Izayoi. "Why are _you_ here?" She was blood spattered, pale-faced, and shaking with exhaustion, but her back was ramrod straight as she faced him.

"I do not much care for your tone," he said coolly.

She gaped at him, mouth working soundlessly.

He sighed. "Close your mouth. I was bathing and heard the screams. I came to investigate, and overheard you speak of my... old friend, Ryuunomei, as though you knew him. Who are you, woman, and how do you know the Lord of the East?"

To his surprise, her face immediately went totally blank. She might have been a china doll for all the expression on her face. For a second longer, she looked at him, and he watched the blood drain slowly from her face, until he was sure if he picked her up and dropped her those porcelain limbs would shatter all over his feet. Then, she rigidly turned her back on him and stalked off to help the wounded.

Caught by surprise, for a moment he could only gape at her retreating back, but he recovered quickly. He snarled and leapt after her, catching her arm in his claws. His claws, carefully poison-free, punctured her skin lightly to hold her still. "Do not turn your back on me, woman. Answer the question."

By all the gods, that blank face was eerie! It only broke when he called her 'woman', and that was to twist in irritation.

"My _name_ is Izayoi! And I don't want to talk about him." The irritation faded with an obvious effort and her face became schooled and expressionless once again. She looked him straight in the eye, cold and unafraid. "He's not worth the ground he walks on." She tore loose, ignoring the bloody gouges that caused in her arm, and stiffly walked to the survivors.

He was left with runnels of her blood trickling down his fingers and a fog of confusion reigning in his mind.

Unable to make sense of it, he watched her methodically shred her _haori_ and bind her companion's wounds. She had some skill as a healer, though not on level with a priestess or physician.

He was now extremely curious about her past with Ryuunomei and the mysterious talisman. She would answer him, no matter how long it took. He ensconced himself in a tree nearby and waited for her to finish.

As he waited, he thought.

xxxxx

In his time, Japan was split up between four youkai lords, the reigning Daiyoukai. The northern kingdom consisted of the island of Hokkaido and the northernmost tip of the main island, Honshu. The southern kingdom owned Shikoku and Kyushu, the southern islands, and the southernmost tip of Honshu. The rest of the greatest island was divided up fairly evenly between the lords of the East and West, who since time immemorial had been bitter enemies. The borders of these lands were constantly shifting as land was parceled out as gifts or peace-offerings, or taken in blood and conquest, but rarely moved very far. The system was old, deeply established, and change came only with great upheaval.

In the north ruled the wolf king, Kouma, wild and heathen but traditionally neutral in the wars of the other kingdoms. His lands were untamed expanses of tree and mountain, and followed only the rules of blood and muscle. As there was no viable farmland there to covet, he was rarely bothered. When someone _was _stupid enough to attack him, they inevitably died in the red-black night, fallen to the ivory fangs of his wolf army.

No one ever threatened him anymore.

A lion ruled the south, Sakenmaru the Old. He was sharp-minded but kind, the diplomat of the Ruling Council. Whenever war broke out, it was always he who stepped in with warm tawny eyes and soothing voice to forge a new peace. Even the humans of his lands respected him, for he was fair and merciful. For a long time now, he'd been a steadfast ally of the Lord of the West.

Which was him. The West belonged to him, to Inutaisho the Dog Lord. His great and wise family had ruled their half of the island for millennia, and of the four rulers they were best loved by their people, the youkai at least. And they were the most feared, for they were swift to retaliate to any incursion or insult. Many a demon lord had fallen prey to their vengeance over the years. The Inu line was long-lived, passionate, and the most given to heights of emotion. Rage especially. Most demons were cold and studiously emotionless, requiring great lengths to raise them to anger or passion. Not so with the Dogs. They were fiercely loyal, quick to love and quick to revenge. A vendetta for the inuyoukai lasted centuries at least. Thankfully, they had few vendettas accumulated.

Most of those were small, petty and half-forgotten. But there was one that had endured for thousands upon thousands of years, since nearly the beginning of history. The West belonged to Inutaisho. And the East... the East lay under the iron heel of his arch-nemesis, Ryuunomei the Dragon King.

Ryuunomei was undeniably a great demon, noble and strong. But within him lay a thick streak of twisted wrongness, a perversion that made him a laughing, ecstatic wraith on the battlefield, reveling in the pain and death and blood around him. Though not physically strong, he was possessed of great spiritual powers that made him every bit as lethal as any other sword-swinging warrior. He lived to cause pain. And so, he was intolerable to Inutaisho, who preferred to avoid and prevent it whenever possible. It had been centuries since their last battle, but Inutaisho vividly remembered his flying purple-black hair and mad green eyes flashing as he tore out beating hearts from across the field with magically extended claws. Even in his human form, Ryuunomei was the wind of death personified.

And he _despised_ humans.

Which made the woman's muttered declaration of earlier utterly mystifying.

Inutaisho lounged in the tree and waited.

Night fell.

xxxxx

Izayoi was nearly going out of her mind. Inutaisho's _youki_ was beating on her mind like millions of silver butterflies until she could hardly think. The women were quietly sniffling and burying the babies. Tracks of tears laid themselves down Izayoi's cheeks as well. They were not her children. But they were children, nonetheless, and undeserving of their cruel fate. She wept silently as she gathered the pieces of reality and made them ordered.

That was a woman's way, after all, attempting to make chaos make sense while all the while mostly creating the chaos herself.

She longed to dance, longed to move. Once upon a time she had been bright and shining, rejoicing in all things beautiful. Once upon a time she had been innocent.

There were dark things in the world, she'd discovered all too early. One by one, song and art and cooking had lost their shine for her. All the things that had once brought her pleasure were slain by the force of things that hurt, which was so much stronger to her. If only... if only. There were too many if's. All she had left now was dancing, and she was too tired even to do that now.

Finally, the camp slept. She sank to her knees, beyond exhaustion. She felt filthy, covered in blood.

_I want a bath. I would give my right arm for a bath. And my left leg. And my hair. Perhaps my future firstborn child? _

She certainly did _not_ want to talk to the stubborn demon lord lounging in the tree above them. But there was little she could do about that.

"What is this talisman you spoke of?" he asked abruptly, having apparently determined that the women were all at last asleep.

She cringed. She had hoped he hadn't heard that bit. No such luck, it seemed... "Oh, nothing much!" she sang skittishly, managing with a truly heroic effort not to wring her hands. "Just an old... family heirloom... thing. Nothing really important. Just has... um... sentimental value!"

He looked at her askance, unable to keep up with her wildly skittering scent and emotions. She was telling the truth... sort of. Not all of the truth. "Let me see it," he demanded.

She jumped and grimaced. "Well, you see, that's a little difficult." She bit her lip. "He made me swallow it."

He stared at her. "How big is it?"

She made a circle with her fingers about the size of a plum. "It hurt, a lot. Another thing for me to be thankful for."

"What?" he started.

She snorted. "It's called sarcasm. This horrid thing rolling around in my gut is yet another thing I have him to thank for, the utterly _heinous_ bastard."

He laughed. "Your language is most unladylike, especially considering who you are speaking of. By the way, you still have not answered my question. How do you know Ryuunomei?"

In response, she shifted so her back was to him and slipped her _haori_ off her shoulder. Imprinted on her left shoulderblade, behind her heart, was Ryuunomei's clan _kanji_ in purple and green ink. "My father was his servant, a diplomat responsible for relations between the human and demon occupants of the Eastern Lands. I was basically a hostage, to ensure my father dealt honestly with the demons. I was raised among the children of the demon court, and Ryuunomei treated me as a sort of niece." She pulled the haori back into place and refastened it with nimble fingers. "Does that answer your question?"

"Partially. But you still haven't explained why you're in the middle of my lands with a talisman belonging to my ... old friend."

She froze.

"Do I have to tell you that?" she asked quietly.

There was that pain in her voice again, that strange bone-deep ache that made his skin crawl. His mind fogged over and his voice begain speaking for itself without any help from his brain. It was a strange feeling, entirely unnatural and quite worrisome, but he couldn't summon the strength to throw it off.

"Eventually," he said. "What are you going to do right now?" Rationalizations began to float through his brain, and he blissfully accepted them, beyond caring.

There would be time enough to extract the information once she was no longer distracted by these blithering whiners.

She could go free for a while, until such time as he decided he needed the information.

Ryuunomei would never trust a human with something truly important, so it could wait.

She really was a nice girl, there was need to be suspicious of her.

In fact, it would even be a rather clever idea to help her out a little bit. Couldn't hurt.

There was no rush to extract any petty morsels of information.

There was no rush.

No rush...

Just let it go... forget.

The strange fogginess intensified. In other times, he speculated uncaringly, he would have been _very _interested indeed in the answers to those questions. But here, right now, it seemed unimportant. It sighed out of his mind on the breeze without more notice.

"I... hadn't really thought beyond getting these girls to shelter. Afterwards... I suppose I'll find some new place to live. It won't be the first time." She sighed, then abruptly stood up. "Thank you for saving us. I know the villagemen were in the wrong and you were within your rights, so I'll make sure nobody makes any revenge attempts." She dusted off her hakama and began to walk away. Then she paused and looked back over her shoulder, the look in her eyes deep and unfathomable. "Thank you."

He knew she was thanking him for something else when she said that, and after a moment he realized it was for not demanding she answer him about the talisman and her current state of dispossession. Then she was gone into the shadows, and before he could think too much about why he'd spared her and the others, let alone saved them, he launched for the clarity of the open skies and the stars.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	3. Visions in Violet

**A/N: **And here's the third chapter. Do enjoy.

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

_**Chapter III: Visions in Violet**_

**xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox**

_I've had a wonderful evening, but this wasn't it. -Groucho Marx_

_**Several months later**_

OooooooooooooooooO

Izayoi sat seiza on her floor and meditated. Around her was an intricate design in white sand, with a few strategically placed tallow candles, and a great flat amethyst crystal lay before her. Her hands skated lightly over its strangely warm surface, then settled on the edges. It had been a while since she'd used the ability, but today her intuition had been tweaking her mercilessly and now she had finally given in. The scrying circle began to glow softly, each grain of sand like a minute star. The amethyst heated rapidly.

She gazed deeply into its facets and lost herself with swift, well-practiced ease.

For a while she merely wandered in the violet depths, oddly comforted by the familiar ghostly planes and mists of her scrying trance. She had discovered her gift at the age of seven, when she had accidentally fallen into trance staring at a waterfall and seen an impending bandit raid. In memory, she saw her girl-form run weeping with terror for her mother's skirts, who having also had the gift, understood the origin of her daughter's terror and took immediate action. She had saved her village. But their intolerance for the mystical made them ostracize her, and so she had lived for a lonely year without friends in the face of the villager's scorn.

It was bitter to know that if she had possessed purifaction and barrier-making powers along with the foresight, she would have been a priestess and greatly revered. As it was, she was simply an oddity, and people were afraid that she might tell them things they did not wish to know, like when they would die or that their wives were unfaithful to them. A stupid, narrow fear, but a human one. She understood well enough and did not bother resenting them for it.

Then, her father had gotten his appointment to the position of human relations with Ryuunomei, and she had found some modicum of happiness with her demon playmates. As she had grown, her gift had grown with her, and she began to use it to help him, scrying out his enemies' moves and possible threats. Thanks to her, he remained secure on his throne.

But then, he had... _no_. She was not going there, not now. Right now she was looking for someone or someplace that might have use for her. Somewhere she could stay for a while, until that went up in smoke too.

Such was life for her.

Misty figures moved sluggishly through the purple mist, indistinct and grey. She felt the tension from the last few day's events melt away as the mist curled around her, supporting her ethereal body. She swayed, and danced through the fog, looking for nothing in particular. There had been an eerie calm for the last few months, and now she was just looking for _anything_ interesting to break the tedium. The last village had, predictably, ousted her as soon as they caught wind of her gift, and here she was wandering again.

It got tiresome, she thought. The closed world of the crystal was really the only place that remained constant for her. She could rest here, when the real world became too much. _Like now._

Her spirit feet lightly skipped across the indistinct ground, her arms sweeping gracefully through the air. She loved to dance, and gravity seemed much less intrusive here. Her hair floated behind her whirling form like a soft flag of coal dust. Up and down, writhing into impossible shapes, she spun through the mist like a wraith, perfectly free. Until she collided, with sickening force, with a form that hadn't been there moments ago. She swore artfully.

"What in...?" She spun to look at the brand new vision, the solidity of which was breathtaking and very unusual. Only the strongest visions had any sort of corporeality here, usually the consistency of still water. The most powerful and usually most frightening of the visions felt like running into perhaps a snowbank, solid but easily shaped and crumbled into something soft and pliant.

Whatever this was... it had felt like hitting a glacier, solid and implacable. Had she hit it with her real body... she would have had several broken bones, at least. As it was, it took several minutes to pull her spirit together again enough to see. Once she could, she squinted and tried to examine whatever it was that she had hit. And stared in perplexity. There was nothing there. She reached out carefully and swept her hand through the space. Nothing. Whatever it had been, it was gone.

"Impossible..." she breathed. Once an event became likely to happen, it remained in the scryworld until it either became unlikely or came to pass. Either option made the event representation in the mists gradually dissipate. Bigger events took longer to dissolve. Something this unprecedentedly strong should have taken weeks, perhaps even a month to vanish. Not two seconds. It was impossible. So utterly impossible, she couldn't wrap her head around it. In all her fourteen years of experience with the scryworld, she had _never_ encountered such a phenomenon.

She knew her real body would be shaking and sweat-drenched, and looked forward to a bath as soon as she was done. Severely shaken, she began preparations to exit the world of visions.

_I don't think I'm going to find anything else today,_ she reasoned. Surely two such events would not happen in the same session, it would be like being struck by lightning twice in the same storm.

Visions, like storms, were contrary things.

A colorful form caught the corner of her eye, and she halted her preparations incredulously. _Another one?_ Color was a good sign; it meant the vision was important. Mundane things were greyish purple like everything else there. She drifted towards it, rounding an intrusive fog bank to come face to face with the vision. For a moment, she watched, mouth agape in astonished.

She gasped.

Then groaned.

Just when she'd thought she'd finally escaped...

xxxxx

"My lord?"

Inutaisho waved casually for the retainer to come in. It was a toad demon, bug-eyed and scrapingly deferential.

"Milord, there is someone at the gates demanding to see you. We were unsure of what to do..."

He groaned and sat back. "Who was it? If it was a foreign diplomat, why didn't you just give them quarters and set up an appointment?"

The toad clacked his beak-like mouth nervously. "Well, sire... she's not exactly a foreign diplomat... or much of anything. She refuses to say why she's here, but she's got a low-level dragon demon with her and it's holding off the guards. She seemed strangely upset. What do you want us to do, milord?"

A distant memory was tickling him, and his nose was twitching absently.

Mountain meadows wafted through the air, replete with a cascading waterfall and a setting sun. Whatever new solution the maids were using to clean the castle was quite delightful... He sat bolt upright from his slouched position.

_Wildflowers..._ Without a word he brushed out of the room leaving a very flustered toad demon scurrying in his wake.

"Milord! Wait for me!"

He crashed through the courtyard doors dramatically, drawing himself up to his full intimidating height. Sure enough, there she stood, arrow trained on his guards, hair flying like a sable pennant in the wind. The dragon demon, two headed and both heads snarling, stood beside her in battle stance.

_Reckless idiot!_ he thought incredulously. Walking into a demon stronghold with only a weak dragon demon to guard her! "Woman," he said coolly_. "_What do you want?" He thought he struck a very distinguished, imposing figure, standing there in the doorway with his hair severely tied back. He felt obscurely proud.

Which she instantly ruined when she burst into helpless tears.

"Damn you!" she shrieked, angrily wiping the tears off her cheeks. "My name is _Izayoi_ and since I came here to _save _you perhaps you could show a little respect!" The demons present in the courtyard gasped at her affront, and drew their swords.

"How dare you speak to the master like that! You will be punished!" they cried, and leapt for her.

Panic bloomed in his chest as the gory future played out in his head in an instant, and he bolted across the courtyard to stand between her and guards, arms spread. Not a moment too soon-- the charging warriors skidding to a halt bare breaths away.

"Do not lay a hand on her!" he bellowed, heart pounding at the near miss. "She is a valued vassal of the Lord of the East. He would take her death much amiss, and as he is currently far more prepared for a war than we are, such a move would be _most_ ill-advised. She must be treated as a valued emissary. Show her to the guest quarters. If anything happens to her, I shall be most displeased." He turned to her to find her standing wide eyed and looking very small. "We will speak later. _Do_ try not to provoke my staff, I want you alive until you answer my questions."

She gasped indignantly and made as if to retort, but he silenced her with a warning glare.

Taken aback at the ferocity of his gaze, she closed her mouth and allowed the guards to lead her off almost meekly.

He heaved a sigh of relief. It had been so _close_... the shadow of obliterating war loomed large in his mind. Ryuunomei was just _waiting_ for a good excuse to start a war with him... and he had almost gotten one with her almost-death. The West was woefully ill-prepared for such a war at the time-- Ryuunomei would flatten them like insects. They would live under his subjugation for _decades_ before gaining the strength to throw him off again.

_So close_! He swept back inside, trailing the persistent toad.

It occurred to him then that the toad's discretion had played a large part in saving his country from premature war, and he turned. "What is your name?"

The toad squeaked, and fiddled with its nails. "Jaken, Milord. What would you like me to do?"

Inutaisho smiled. "You did the right thing in coming for me, Jaken. Well done. I am promoting you. You are now my personal adviser. You will move your quarters to somewhere I can easily reach you at. Understood?"

The toad was speechless with gratitude, large glistening tears pouring down his slimy green cheeks. "Yes my lord! Thank you my lord!" He bobbed ingratiatingly and flattened himself against the wall to let Inutaisho pass. In his mind, he thought it was the beginning of a long and beautiful friendship.

He was mostly right.

VvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvV

Izayoi paced restlessly across the length of her beautifully appointed guest room, not seeing any of it. She'd traveled like the wind, riding Ah-Un nearly to exhaustion to get here in time, and now he was keeping her waiting an insultingly long time. Logically, she knew the event she'd seen wouldn't take place until tomorrow. But she couldn't kill the great rush she'd been in for the last three days. Impatience doesn't just vanish when one's been in a hurry for that long.

So she paced. She had taken the time to change, and the long sky-blue kimono swept the floor in rhythm with her footsteps. She fiddled with the purple obi, worrying it with her fingers. What the _hell_ was taking him so long? She considered redoing her hair. Did the formal updo look too stuffy? After a lengthy internal weighing, she decided it did and yanked the pins out.

Just then, Inutaisho walked in.

xxxxx

Her hair cascaded down in slow motion, in loops and whorls of midnight black, sweeping throught the air like raven's wings until it settled to her knees. She ran her fingers slowly, sensuously through it, sorting out the tangles, oblivious of Inutaisho's presence. A small sound of pleasure escaped her at the massage-like tugs on her scalp. It was strangely mesmerizing, and he stared without blinking. Then he realized what he was doing-- enjoying watching a human woman. Shaking himself, he wondered where his old aloofness had gone.

He tried not to look, cursing himself for not sending a messenger. Wryly he thought of his young son Sesshoumaru-- perhaps all his old detachment and contempt for humans had somehow passed down to his cold, emotionless son. Did the boy _ever _cry? Or smile? It was almost eerie the way the boy took all emotionally provocative situations and treated them with about as much interest as he gave to watching trees grow. Which was to say, none.

He could use some of that back, now. _Why _was the sight of her letting her hair down so damned provocative? _Never mind! Do not think about it. Let it go_...

"Ahem," he said conversationally, and took secret gratification from seeing her jump slightly and squeak. She whirled and pinned him with a glare that could have wilted flowers.

"It's about bloody time," she snarled.

Taken aback, he settled his hand on his sword. It had been a long, long time since anybody had spoken rudely to him, and he couldn't quite remember a way to deal with it that didn't involve dismemberment.

"Ah..." For one horrific moment, he had no idea what to say. Then inspiration struck and he drew himself up. "You are a guest in my home. I will ask you to restrain your temper when you speak to me." Hah! That was perfect, cool and diplomatic. He smiled to himself. See what she said to that!

"I'm sorry," she instantly said, looking and sounding genuinely apologetic.

And once again, he was thrown completely off balance. He had expected more resistance.

She regarded him wearily, eyes bloodshot. "I came as fast as I could. I... I had a vision."

Immediately he was all attention. He had lived for far too long to discount the visions of seers. He had not realized that she was one, but it did not surprise him. She certainly had an aura of the mystical about her.

"We must go somewhere safer," he ordered. "Follow me."

Silently he took off out the door, leaving her to hoist her skirts and run after him. He was painfully aware of her labouring behind him, floundering in a sea of Chinese silk. If she, a human that had no real reason to like him, had come all this way at such great speed to tell him of her vision, it could not be good news. Instinctively, he wove through the wide, golden white halls of his home. The wooden floors were gleaming with fresh polish, and the _shoji_ were clean and free of tatters.

He really had exceptional housekeepers, he thought.

Decoration was sparse. Alcoves in the odd stone wall held precious, understated objects or flower arrangements. There were very few paintings, mostly of his ancestors. It was pleasingly spare and open. The only downside was that one hallway tended to look much like the next, so unless one knew exactly where they were in relation to the rest of the compound, it was very easy to get lost.

Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw that Izayoi did indeed look bewildered, but she followed without a word, seemingly trusting that he was not finding an obscure corner to do her in. He wasn't sure he deserved such trust- humans fell like wheat to his claws, when he saw fit. He'd killed on a mere whim before, on rare occasion. His deathcount easily numbered in the thousands. Including women. And children. He felt little guilt-- he was a demon, and killing was one of his primary talents and impulses. Killing was simply what he did.

Therefore trusting him-- whom she barely knew-- with her life was an unwise decision by all accounts.

Or did she trust him because he hadn't taken the opportunity to kill her last time? Also foolish. Last time he'd been tired, and competely satiated from killing the village militia. Today was completely different. He was feeling rather on edge, and a nice slaughter would be rather soothing at the moment. The inner politics of the House of the West were driving him quite mad. Keeping balance between his underlings was exhausting and massively frustrating, especially since it was bad form to kill them. Being able to just decapitate any underling whose plottings got in the way would be so very gratifying. But he couldn't. So he gritted his teeth and bore it out, one day at a time.

And now... here was this superlatively frustrating woman, bringing yet _more_ bad news. Did it never end?

"Here," he said, and opened a door for her. This was a mostly unoccupied wing of the compound- they were unlikely to be disturbed. "Now. Tell me of this vision you had."

She took a deep breath.

xxxxx

How to begin? she wondered. It seemed silly, now. Had she even really needed to come? "Well... it's like this." She paused, and he gazed at her expectantly.

"Yes?" he prompted when it seemed she'd lost her train of thought.

He was wrong-- she had not lost the thought at all, but was instead suddenly overcome with reluctance to speak it out loud. Izayoi cringed and tried not to dry-wash her hands, a favourite nervous habit of hers.

"Ah... it seems that the power medians running through the land are in disruption- someone has blocked one off, and so they are breaking their banks all around it. If the blockage is not cleared, the natural magics will go out of control and flood out over the land. Such a saturated environment is not a place in which most creature can live. All but the strongest in the area will die when their bodies' mana channels are suddenly bombarded with more magic than they can handle and rupture. It is a painful, unlovely death."

He watied patiently for more, but it seemed none was immediately forthcoming. "...And?"

She blinked, her reverie broken. "And... well... I can fix the blockage. Thing is..." She gulped and stopped.

He glared ferociously. "How does this pertain to me?" He was losing patience. From what he'd heard so far, this had nothing to do with him or his own, so why was she here?

She inhaled deeply. "The blockage is in the Southern Kingdom... but the way the mana is building up and flowing, it'll... it'll be your kingdom that's obliterated, not the South. Power medians don't flow by the law of gravity... they flow to where the least mana is. Right now, that's here. Because..." she cut herself off, audibly swallowing her words.

He narrowed his eyes. "Now is _not_ the time to be reticent. Tell me what you know."

She sucked in a breath. By all the gods, this was difficult!

_I really didn't think this out, did I, _ she mused ruefully. _Now what? _

She was torn-- if she held her tongue, he would probably kill her, and they would all die. If she told him...

Suddenly there were strong hands on her shoulders, sharp claws digging into her back. His eyes were glinting dangerously.

"_Now_, woman," he snarled softly.

Her throat closed, and her eyelids fell.

_Shit. _

"There is a mana drought in your lands right now because... because Ryuunomei has been sucking it out faster than it can fill the lack. He and the Lord of the South are working together on this, according to my vision." There. She'd done it... betrayed her liege lord. It wasn't as hard as she'd though it would be, somehow. He had, after all, used her and left her die. She owed him nothing.

For a long moment, he was silent, digesting this. Then: "How?"

Her head snapped up. She'd really, _really _hoped he wouldn't ask that question. Her face scrunched up in a truly extraordinary grimace.

_Shitshitshit!_

The claws dug a little deeper and she winced.

"Ouch! Let go!"

"_How?_" Goddess of light, he sounded furious, and utterly lethal.

"If I tell you, will you promise not to kill me?"

His amber eyes were bleeding red, the precursor to his demonic transformation to his true form-- an enormous white dog. She's seen it before. He could crush her with one paw in that form.

_He can't do that inside! He'll crush the whole compound! _

It didn't seem he was really caring much about that at the moment, though. "No," he breathed. "But I will _definitely_ kill you if you do not tell me."

"The amulet!" she blurted as his claws hit bone, tears seeping from her eyes. "The amulet is a mystical portal! It sucks mana from around it and stores it. Ryuunomei... sent me into the heart of your territory with the amulet for that purpose. That was my vision! I didn't know what the amulet was for until I saw it!" Sobbing with pain and fear, she shut her eyes and tucked her chin into her shoulder. "I'm sorry!"

Suddenly the claws were pulling out and she cried out rawly at the renewed pain. Blood ran down her arms to drip off her fingers. Utterly certain that she was going to die, she hiccupped and sank to her knees. It hadn't seemed such a terrible thing when the village men were slaughtered and she had thought the women were next-- that was impersonal and somehow less offensive. Now... she wondered if he would make her suffer first.

A strangled sob flew from her throat.

With an effort, she steeled herself and faced the reality of her deep, unbearable terror. It was like a flock of black ravens chewing at her insides. She had heard once somewhere that fear was the only thing worthy of being afraid of, but she was not enlightened enough to tick 'pain,' 'death,' or 'the unknown' off her list quite yet. There was no guarantee that there would be anything waiting for her on the other side but utter blackness and absence of thought.

She, who had once been light caged in a body of white flesh, feared that blackness with all her soul.

However, Izayoi had a streak of courage deep within her that allowed her to step back and look at the situation from a detached point of view, just for a split second. That was more than enough to clear her head.

_So I'm afraid. Anyone would be. Is this how I want to go out? No. No! _ She would not beg. If that was her fate...

_So be it. I am samurai._

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Talisman kinky.

_Hey Mr. Talisman, tally me bananas... daylight come, and me wanna go home. _


	4. Adflictationis

**Warning: **This chapter contains mature situations and events that may be uncomfortable to some.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter IV: Adflictationis**_

**xxxxx**

_Wise men talk because they have something to say. Fools talk because they have to say something. -Plato_

He considered killing her very seriously.

It wasn't every day, after all, that he learned that someone had been sitting pretty in the middle of his land for months, sucking mana from his lands in order for the coming flood to have the most serious effect.

_Little human whore! _he thought, his fury bleeding his vision red. His claws twitched, itching to rend her flesh. How dare she?

The old familiar blood rage flooded him, as it had when he had slaughtered her village. The demon dog within screamed for blood, would not be denied. His knuckles cracked.

He looked down at her. She was kneeling, slumped and defeated, on the floor; her glorious hair pooled around her feet. Her arms were bloodstreaked and she was shaking. But not a sound had escaped her after that last choked admission of surrender. She would take her death like a samurai, silent and honourable. Like a demon. There was no one left to fight, so she would go into death open-eyed and graceful to await her next rebirth.

Through the crimson haze that burned his mind, a thought appeared out of nowhere, cool and blue and calming. _She knew. She knew what my probable reaction would be, and she came anyways to warn me. She betrayed her liege lord to save my people. _

He became aware that she was standing again, pale-faced and resolute before him. She was speaking, and with a great effort he pulled back far enough to listen.

"...understand if you want to kill me. I probably deserve it. But please don't forget that I tried to fix my mistake. Remember my death as honourable." With that, she reached up and swept her hair away from one side, baring her white, flimsy neck to his avenging claws. "Go ahead. I'm ready."

And suddenly, inexplicably, he completely lost the desire to kill her. The red haze winked out like it had never been, and he was left cold and empty, and feeling very alone.

When she saw that he was hesitating, she filled the gap with hope despite all her resolve to accept death.

Besides, the thing she'd forgotten to say was rather important.

"There's one more thing you should know. The reason I was able to stay in your land so long undiscovered, the reason you didn't feel the need to kill me when you met me: it's because a member of your court has been protecting me. He, or one of his contacts, cast a spell on me to discourage you from killing me, and to as much of an extent as possible encourage you to help me. It was very advanced magic... whoever it was is a force to be reckoned with." She continued, oblivious to the terrible expression on his face. "You have a traitor, my lord Inutaisho. Be warned."

"Who?" he asked hoarsely, feeling the walls of his life dissolve around him like snow in rain. She shook her head negatingly, to his great disappointment.

"I don't know, it was all done anonymously, across _shoji_ in darkened rooms. I never saw them. It was a different messenger every time, and I doubt I could identify their voices. I'm sorry, Inutaisho-sama. I wish I could help."

He shook his head slowly, disbelieving. His greatest enemy was working with one of his allies, aided by his own household. Did he have _any _friends left? Until he identified the traitor, he could trust no one. He was completely alone.

He felt disjointed, like he had been cut loose from the fabric of his universe and was floating freely with nothing to anchor him. He couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. He had lived for nearly three millenia, but never had he been so totally betrayed. His staunchest ally, Sakenmaru, the lion demon of the South, had betrayed him. The North remained neutral as ever under the Wolf Lord Kouma, and the East had always hated him. His very household, his extended family, were under suspicion as well. The only one he was reasonably certain was faithful was Jaken, his new personal adviser. The little toad's deference and hero-worship had been real, he was sure of it.

One. One person in the world world he could trust. How had it come to this? Logically, he knew that in all likelihood _most_ of his staff were loyal, but in the light of her stunning revelations, he couldn't help but wonder how many weren't.

xxxxx

_To hell with it, _she thought. _ If I have a chance for survival, I'm taking it._

"If you should choose not to kill me outright, I will be your ally," she hazarded, praying she wouldn't strike a nerve and lose her head before she could blink.

It seemed she was in luck, for Inutaisho only raise heavy-lidded eyes to meet her own.

"You may wonder how you can trust me since I betrayed my lord..." --he had in fact not considered it yet, but it was a valid point-- "but the simple fact is, he betrayed me first. He cast off my loyalty and forfeited all right to it long ago. I do not feel I have betrayed him at all."

_Please please please..._

"I am not entirely useless as an ally-- I am, as you know, a seer, and I have some small control over the mystic arts as well." She hesitated, took a deep breath, and took the plunge. "The fact is, my lord, that I'm one of the only people on your side here. It should say something to you that I nearly ran myself into the ground to get this warning to you in time with no regard for my safety once I got here. I have nothing to gain from betraying you-- as of five minutes ago, I'm living at your discretion. On borrowed time. I have enough honour not to betray that."

She stopped talking. Any more would sound like begging, and she had sworn not to do that. So she waited. And prayed.

xxxxx

He was, to say the least, astonished. She was right. How utterly unthinkable. He'd spared her life twice now, and he had seen her honour in action. She would indeed hold herself to her new path. _If_ he let her live.

If.

It seemed a foregone conclusion, now. Of course he would let her live-- how idiotic would it be to eliminate one of his three remaining allies? Like it or not, she was really all the muscle he had on his side now, aside from himself. Jaken and her dragon steed didn't really count-- Jaken had no power and the dragon had no brain. She was it. His only real ally.

In the space of barely ten minutes his carefully maintained world had fallen to pieces around him.

"Leave me," he said hollowly. "I need to think."

She nodded, scent suddenly flooding with hope though her face remained carefully blank. She rose, bowed deeply, and swept out.

Once she was gone and the _shoji _slid shut behind her, his breath exploded out of him and he whirled into a fast pace. In his mind, he began to categorize all the major players into categories- allies, enemies, and neutrals.

_Enemies: Sakenmaru, Ryuunomei, their entire kingdoms, the traitors in my own court. Number: several hundred thousand._

His long fingers carefully massaged his temples, thoughtlessly avoiding his claws.

_Neutrals: Kuroga and his kingdom. Number: about twenty thousand. _

_Allies: Jaken, the dragon, and the woman. Number: three. _

He groaned, deep voice vibrating through his skull.

How could this have happened? What could have possibly happened to make Sakenmaru turn against him? They had been allies for centuries! The lion was the last person Inutaisho had ever expected to betray him. It was deeply out of character for him. What could Ryuunomei have offered him as incentive? Money? Land? Whatever it was, it had to be impossibly valuable to change something so deep and long-standing.

_What? What?_

There would be no help from the Northern wolf tribes- though they remained neutral, they had a long-standing rivalry with the dogs and would be much more inclined to join the South and East in grinding them into the dust than help the West. There might be some help from the outlying islands, but it that would number in the hundreds, not the thousands he needed.

_Slow down. What needs to be done? _he asked himself. _One: root out the traitor. _

Easier said than done. His household numbered about four hundred, between servants, labourers and miscellaneous royalty. The woman's comment about it being advanced magic did not help-- magical power had little to do with political affluence. The traitor could be any servant with the gift.

_Two: get that talisman out of my lands. _

This was less difficult- all he had to do was find a remote spot on his border to cross, take it-- and by extension, her-- a ways out without being detected, and leave it. Trouble was, the only unpopulated place on his borders where he would be unlikely to be detected was with the North, and as they were the only nation not directly opposing him, he was loath to do anything that would cause them to turn against him for good. Besides which, putting the talisman there would make a mana drought there, which would cause the flood from the South to cross his lands directly, which wouldn't help matters at all. So he would have to risk crossing the border with the South, which was heavily populated. The chances of getting caught would be enormous.

Too bad he couldn't trust anybody but the aforementioned three to take it across the border-- with her a well known lackey of Ryuunomei's, she would be easy to recognize. Jaken was too weak, and the dragon not smart enough to travel alone with the amulet. If the woman was recognized, she was not powerful enough to avoid being taken. He'd think about the solution for that later.

_Three: find out why Sakenmaru turned on me and try my damnedest to turn him back._

Possibly the tallest order yet. This would involve meeting with him in person, which would naturally involve passing through his lands, right into the very heart of his power. It wouold be an enormous risk, and utmost stealth would be required.

_Four: get more allies. _

He would have to find a way to determine who was loyal and who wasn't, beyond a possibility of doubt. Unfortunately, nothing came to mind. As far as he knew, there was no foolproof method to determine loyalty. So he would just have to trust those he could get-- something he was highly uncomfortable with. There was nothing for it.

_So what first? The talisman, I think. _

It suddenly occurred to him that he'd thrown a third of his allies out into the hallway without a guard, in his mazelike, hostile compound.

_Damnation! _

He threw the door open, and sucked in a breath when he realized she was nowhere to be seen.

_Damnation and hellfire! Where is she? _

xxxxx

Izayoi was off balace. Whatever she'd expected, it hadn't been this precipitous ejection from his presence. She couldn't remember anything about the way from the gate, and the halls twisted away bewilderingly in either direction. In the room, she could hear the dog lord pacing frantically, and felt a great compassion being born within her.

_Poor man, _she thought sadly, _he must not have any friends left. I wonder if he'll be smart enough to let me stay with him. _

There was a disquieting notion in there, and she doubled back to re-examine it.

_Do I want to stay with him? _

Her shoulders throbbed from the four deep punctures, and her heart was still wildly fluttering from her almost-death.

_He hurt me._

But she had to admit, he could have done a lot worse than he had. For her brashness in coming to his home, _her,_ a known ally of his worst enemy, he might have had her flayed alive. It was not unheard of. Instead, he'd left her alive and relatively unharmed.

_Besides, he's so beautiful,_ a small part of her brain that she rarely allowed to speak slipped in.

Her cheeks flamed and she savagely quashed the small, heated voice. But it was too late-- her traitorous imagination was drifting to the fierce lines of his face and tall, straight-backed strength. Her ears rang with the low tones of his growling voice. She moaned, shaking her head and dropping it into her hands.

_Shut up! Shut up! He is not_ _beautiful! _

It seemed a strange word to use to describe a man, but 'gorgeous' and 'handsome' slid off him like the pathetic human words they were. They were too small and too petty for what he was.

_Beautiful._

_Shut up! _

She paced the hallway, desperately clutching her head in an attempt to squeeze the images and thoughts out. Back and forth, back and forth, stop it stop it _stop it...! _

So it was that she did not notice that she was no longer alone in the hallway. Back and forth she paced, oblivious to the new company, who licked his hairy lips and flared his nostrils. A ferret demon, low level and despised by pretty much everyone. He was humanoid, but distinctly ferret-like at the same time. Coarse, yellowed white hair grew profusely over most of his body, and his eyes were completely black and beady. Long claws curved off the ends of his stubby fingertips. He was not pleasant to look at, unlike some of the females of his species.

He was nearly upon her before she noticed. It was his movements out of the corner of his eye that alerted her, and she turned to regard him neutrally. She took comfort in the fact that the lord of the castle was just a doorway away.

It was then that she discovered that in her pacing she'd gone quite a ways from the door. There would be no help from that quarter.

Fear bloomed in her belly, and she tensed.

Then, she made a fatal mistake-- she assumed the demon would talk to her first before deciding to harm her.

She was mistaken.

Before she could even open her mouth to greet him, he clapped a furry hand over her mouth and hoisted her bodily. She shrieked, but it was muffled by his hand; kicked, but because of her position was unable to gain any purchase.

Horror drowned her as the realization of the situation dawned on her. There were lascivious claws on her breasts, and wet panting in her ear. His intentions were umistakeable. The ferret intended to have her, and there was no way to stop him and no one to help her. She redoubled her efforts, to no avail, cursing her lack of purification powers. What she woudn't give to be a priestess right now so she could turn him to ash with her touch. Her foresight rarely showed her anything directly to do with herself-- only other people, and now she was suffering for that.

They entered a dark, dusty room at the end of a long hall, and with despair she realized that even the _maids _never came down here. She was going to be ravished, and then probably killed. Vomit boiled in her stomach, but she couldn't even relax her larynx enough to be sick all over the ferret's disgusting, hairy hand.

The world tilted and she landed heavily on her back on something lumpy and reeking of sweat and semen.

_He brings all his victims here,_ her mind clinically told her, and then she _was _sick, hurling violently off to the side.

The ferret laughed, high and cackling. "You're a toothsome piece," he snarled appreciatively. "Be nice, now."

In response, she let loose an unholy shriek that reverberated throughout the small room.

The demon's eyes widened and he knelt beside her. "Quiet, wench!" he snarled, and dealt her a stunning blow to the side of her head.

She thought her skull had come unglued, and she was sure she felt her brain leaking out her ears. There was a high, shrill sound somewhere just beyond the corner of seeing, and it pierced her head like a dagger. Tears of agony rolled unnoticed down her broken cheek, down into the fragrant mess of her hair.

"Much better," the demon grunted, and in a few jerky movements shed his kimono.

She wailed in silent horror within the depths of her shattered mind. He roughly shredded her kimono, too impatient to even undo it properly.

It was autumn, she remembered dimly. The air was cold on her bared skin. She shivered.

And then, it was all hot breath and heavy hands, coarse hair scratching her raw and new pain in places she'd spent the last year trying to numb. His warm, rank breath gusted over her face and her stomach heaved again, dryly and painfully.

She couldn't remember how to speak. He grunted, moving in short, percussive thrusts that agonized her.

Unable to bear the world, she turned inwards and fled to the farthest, darkest place in her mind and curled up there, shaking and weeping for her mother.

Her mother was not there. Her mother was gone, long dead, far beyond being able to help her. Her father was a prisoner, probably dead now-- another stab of a different agony for that-- and impotent as always. She was alone, friendless, and drowning in all the wrong that surrounded her.

_Help_, she sobbed to the darkness, which only gazed back with silent, cold eyes. _Somebody, save me. _

But there was no one. She was alone with the demons outside and those within. Death would be welcome, now, and she found herself longing for the sweet release of Inutaisho's silver claws. But he was not here either, and would not be inclined to help her even if he was.

_Please, please, somebody, please, anybody, please please please..._

It felt like days that she lay beneath the hot, damp lump of grunting hairy demon wishing for the oblivion she'd feared so much such a short time ago would claim her with its welcome absence of feeling_._ It might have been hours, was probably only minutes. But to her it was a forever of sorts before light flooded the room from behind the dark silhouette crouched between her damp, trembling thighs.

There was a jerk, a horrendous tearing sound, and a warm splatter. She wondered whether it was blood or something even less pleasant. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. It was a faraway curiosity, leftover from when she was alive.

She barely even felt the strong arms that gathered her pieces off the floor and took her into the light.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N**: Thanks for reading!


	5. Acerbitas

**A/N: **And now, the story begins for real.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter V: Acerbitas**_

**xxxxx**

_We must hang together, or surely we shall hang separately. -Benjamin Franklin_

He had never known such fury, or felt so useless. When he had torn that door open after a frantic search of the castle and seen his lackey hunched over the bruised, helpless form of one of his three remaining allies, the woman who had risked her life to save his country, he'd nearly lost his temper. That was something demons rarelydid. Especially daiyoukai. When daiyoukai lost their tempers, palaces fell to ruin and entire races died. It wasn't that he felt anything for her in particular-- it was that she was on his side, she was his subordinate, and someone who was also supposedto be his subordinate had dared to touch her without his permission.

Rape disgusted him. It was base, barbarian, and utterly honourless. And rape visited on someone whom he valued by someone he didn't exacerbated it, multiplying his fury tenfold until he thought the castle would explode from his raging _youki_ alone.

He looked down at her, sprawled on his bed, still wearing the tattered, bloody kimono. The servants would still be cleaning up the remains of the ferret. He cursed himself for his stupidity, bitterly and at length.

_What was I thinking? No one in the castle is a friend to her. I should have predicted this. Sending her out into the hallway alone and unprotected! Idiot! Thrice-cursed son of a maggot! How could I be so foolish? _

"Unnnnnggghh," she moaned.

His gaze snapped to her. She rolled onto her stomach, then yelped and clutched her midriff with a heartbreaking expression on her face.

Apparently, the ferret hadn't been gentle. Rapists rarely were.

Tears rolled from her eyes, disappearing into the tangled jumble of her hair.

He came to a realization: _we can't stay here. Until I know who the traitor is, I'm not safe, and certainly neither is she. We'll have to leave straight away. _

"Not again..." she whispered, the pain in her voice making his temples throb. She sounded so desolate. So _alone_.

Inutaisho was not made of stone. Though a demon, he was possessed of a fully functional heart. He just... usually reserved the feelings in it for demons, regarding humans as below notice. But this one was rather difficult to ignore.

"Can you stand?" he asked, meaning it to be gruff and businesslike. He was most put out when his voice came out soft and considerate instead.

She blinked at him, then nodded uncertainly. Her hand flew up to cradle her purple eye and cheek.

She was lucky not to be concussed, he thought. He held out a hand, and she stared at it for a moment before taking it and letting him pull her to her feet. For a wild, teeteering moment, she balanced on trembling legs, before they gave out and she crumpled to the ground at his feet with a thud. He heaved a long-suffering sigh and bent down.

A moment later she found herself slung over a hard, broad shoulder. "I will see to finding you some clothing. We need to leave. Neither of us are safe here."

She groaned her understanding, and he suddenly realized he'd thrown her right onto her sensitive middle on his hard, ridged armor. Mentally he kicked himself and swung her down to carry her bridal-style instead. She sighed in relief. "And some medicine."

From somewhere, she found a tired smile.

Not a few eyebrows raised higher than they should have respectfully gone as the Lord of the Western Lands stalked down the main thoroughfare of his compound with pathetically bedraggled and bloodstained human woman dangling limply from his arms. Murmurs followed him like ripples in a stream as he ploughed through the traffic on his way to the medical compound. He could almost hear the rumours starting like weeds after rain.

Then, he _could_ hear them starting.

"What is milord doing with that human? Is she not human? And look at her clothing! You think they are lovers? How scandalous!"

He steeled himself, growling under his breath. The hall stretched endlessly before him. The muscles in his shoulders were knotting faster than he'd thought possible. The murmurs grew to a roar. It suddenly became too much, and he whirled to face the chattering mob behind him, face thunderous and quelling.

"She is an _ally_," he hissed. "Who has been grievously assaulted by one of you. He is dead now. Remember it. She is not to be disrespected." He left in the air the unspoken assumption that it was she who had done the killing. If his lackeys believed her to have such power, more the better. They might feel more inclined to leave her be, at least until he could get her out of there.

The hall was quiet, but he knew it was only until he was out of earshot.

The doctor, a female cat demon named Yuzuriha who had been with his family for centuries, looked utterly shocked when he marched in with the now unconscious woman. "What... who?"

"An ally," he promptly replied. "Heal her. She needs to be fit enough for a journey as soon as possible."

The healer woman gaped.

His eyes narrowed. "Today would be nice," he prompted with false mildness.

Yuzuriha started, then scurried to begin her examination, brows furrowed.

"This is ugly," she proclaimed a moment later in a hushed voice, prodding a long bruise across her stomach muscles. "She is most likely bruised internally as well. What... oh." She discovered the damage from the assault and the question died on her tongue. "Who... never mind. There's nothing I can do about this except put some balm on it to speed healing. It's likely to be very painful for her to walk for a good while yet. I'm sorry, my lord."

He growled in renewed fury. Inutaisho wished he hadn't killed the ferret so fast-- a little torture right about now would have done much for his mood.

"Woman," he said to the still form on the bed. She groaned and half-consciously clenched a fist.

"_Izayoi_," she corrected automatically.

He made a negating gesture with his hand, brushing her weak protest aside. "We need to leave. How long before you can walk, do you think?"

With a great effort, she pulled herself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. The balm was taking effect, he could see it in the easing of her posture. She paused a moment, eyes closed as if in meditation. Then she pushed herself up to her feet. She was wobbly, but standing, nonetheless.

"Whenever you're ready, my lord," she rasped. "I'll try and keep up."

Grudging admiration seeped through the steadily widening cracks in his heart. "Idiot," he growled. "You can hardly stand. Lie down, I'll set a guard and be back in a while."

Terror erupted in her eyes and she bit back a cry. "Yes, my lord," she said, though he could see in her eyes how much she wanted to beg him not to leave her alone with his vassals.

The admiration strengthened. He paused, fighting with himself. In the end, it wasn't really a battle at all-- leaving her alone with a guard he didn't trust was more foolish than he could stand to be right now. "On second thought... do you think you can walk?"

She nodded vehemently and tottered to his side.

"Good. Let us go."

xxxxx

On returning to his apartments, he summoned Jaken. The little toad was there in an instant, bobbing ingratiatingly. "What may I do for you, my lord?"

"I am leaving," he said curtly. "Inform the necessary people only, then pack your bags. You will be coming with us."

The toad's eyes bulged. "Yes, my lord. Immediately, my lord. Is there anything else?"

"No. Wait. Yes. Go to the armoury, to the small room at the back. There will be a two-headed staff hung on the left wall. Pack that as well."

"Very good, sir." He bowed nearly to the floor, then bolted.

"Inutaisho-sama..."

He'd almost forgotten she was there.

"Yes?"

"Do you... perhaps... have a spare haori and hakama I can borrow? These require quite a lot of repair and are full of blood..."

If he kicked himself mentally anymore, he mused, he'd have a bruise on his brain. "You cannot wear mine, you would drown in them," he said. "I may have something for you, though. Wait here."

He steeled himself.

The door on the far end of his room stared at him reproachfully. It was a plain door, unadorned, unremarkable. But it terrified him, one of the only three things in the entire world that did. Beyond that door lay his past, and everything beautiful or painful in his life. Almost every memory for the last two and a half millenia lay behind that door, quietly gathering dust. There were so many bright things behind there, bright things he could never touch again, that would never touch him again.

The woman needed clothing.

He closed his eyes, hardened his heart, and went through the door into the room he hadn't entered in several hundred years. It was spotless-- apparently the housekeepers hadn't imposed on themselves the same restriction he had on himself. The light and lack of dust conflicted with how he expected it to look. There should be mothballs, it should be dark and weeping shadows from every corner.

The smell was driving him mad, that old familiar scent of vanilla and tiger lilies. Seven hundred years and it was still there, still caressing him with unfulfillable promises.

Helpless to stop himself, he looked around at the remnants of his happiness.

The great bed, piled with creamy satin, that she had almost never slept in. Unchanged. The sheets must have been new, for they showed little sign of ivory age.

Memory and pain.

Invariably, she'd stay perhaps five minutes in it, until the servants left, before racing through the _shoji_ to crawl in with him. He shuddered with longing, recalling the warmth of her cheek on his chest and the gentle possessiveness of her slender arm draped across him. And then a darker memory, staining those glowing sheets.He tore his gaze away and continued his journey of pain.

The vanity, surface covered in neatly arranged pots of cosmetics and creams. How she'd loved decorating herself for his pleasure!

The great paintings she'd made in her free time, wild explosions of colourful landscapes and flowing images.

Her _shamisen,_ leaning against a wall near the sitting area. Ethereal strains of haunting music sighed around the room, his memory bringing her talent back to life.

Everything the same, just as he'd asked. Everything except the only thing that was truly important.

He wandered over and picked up an ivory comb from the vanity. It felt cold in his hands, cold as her hands when they'd finally let him in to see her. Smooth as her marble skin. He put it down as though it hurt him, as in a way it did.

xxxxx

_She paused in the middle of her song, fingers digging into the strings. The blood drained from her face, and her eyes snapped up to him. "Taisho..." she whispered, and in a blink he was by her side, one hand around her shoulders and one on her grossly, beautifully swollen belly. It roiled beneath his touch, violent and immediate. _

_"Beloved, what is it?" _

_She moaned, head lolling onto her shoulders. "It is time... find the midwife," she whispered weakly. _

_His eyes widened, and he shouted instinctually for a servant. _

_"Hold on, love, it will only be a minute," he breathed, cradling her on the floor in his arms. _

_She cried out, belly spasming visibly. Her body went rigid and she shook with the force of the contraction. A servant rushed up and he relayed his urgent command. The servant nodded and sprinted for the healer's rooms. _

_In his arms, his beloved wife screamed, eyes straining out of her head, veins rising on her forehead. He watched her agony, helpless to do anything but help her breathe and hold her strong. She shook in the aftermath, leaning her silver-cream head on his shoulder. "He is trying to kill me," she whispered, clutching her belly with clawed fingers. "I feel him, tearing me apart inside. This is not right. This cannot be right." _

_He curled himself protectively around her. "Hush, love. It will turn out fine, please do not worry yourself. I will not let anything happen to you." He rocked her and massaged her twisting stomach. "Never."_

_The midwife arrived in a bustle of cheap wool and rosy cheeks, and immediately began issuing orders. "Get her onto the bed. Somebody heat up some water. My lord, it is best if you leave now." _

_He stared at her, uncomprehending. _

_She scowled. "Go on, this is women's business. Please wait outside." _

_He stood and deposited her on the bed, then glared at the midwife. "If anything happens to her, I will take you apart," he snarled coldly. _

_She glared back, unimpressed. "Nothing I haven't heard before. Now will you please get out and let me do my job?" _

_He turned to his lovely, beloved wife and grasped her hand. "I'll be right outside if you need me, my love," he murmured, and kissed her damp forehead. _

_She nodded weakly and smiled, just for him. _

_His heart flipped over. Two and a half thousand years and she could still make him feel like the young demon who had carried her into their wedding chamber laughing and overflowing with adoration for the shining creature he half disbelieved was really his to keep. He kissed her trembling lips and walked calmly out, masking all signs of the terror he felt._

_He managed to remain in the hall, listening to her agonized howls, for almost an hour before it became more than he could stand. Informing the servant, he fled to his garden and watched the sun sink towards the horizon, spreading molten flames over his domicile. It took two hours for the sun to reach the mountains, and he watched it until he was half-blind._

_The great blazing orb paused for a moment on the crags, as though bidding the world farewell for another night, before sinking ponderously, majestically, into darkness. There was only a brilliant palette of colours splashed on the cloud's underside to indicate where it had gone. _

_It was then that the servant came racing out of the compound to his side, eyes wide and bugged out with terror. "My lord, come quickly!" _

_He got no further than that-- Inutaisho took one look at his face and threw himself towards the open shoji. Behind him, the sunglow faded, and finally surrendered to the darkness. _

_She only had the strength to flop her head over to the side and look at him, utter exhaustion written on her every feature. There was blood, so much blood! All over the beautiful pearlescent sheets, all over her beautiful transluscent skin. He fell on the bedside, seizing her hand and willing her to hold on. But even he could see that it was too late. She'd only held on this long so that she could see him again before the end. _

_"Sesshoumaru," she whispered, and at first he thought it was merely her weakness making her stumble over her words. But something in her voice made him sit up and listen._

_"What?" She grimaced, fighting with everything she was to live long enough to impart that one word, that all important word._

_"Sesshoumaru... " she breathed, her last breath-- "his name is Sesshoumaru." _

_And then, like the brilliant sun of his life, she set and left him in darkness, with the little star she'd named with her dying breath. He leaned his head onto her now-flat belly and wept._

xxxxx

He would rather have endured hours of torture than these short minutes steeped in memory. His throat was tight and his chest seemed to be trying to turn in on itself, cracking and breaking. Gasping, he fled the monstrous shadow of the bed she'd died in for the relative safety of the closet.

The closet was darker, but did not feel much more comfortable. She'd loved clothes, and there were hundreds of kimonos of every shade and pattern carefully hung all around him like silken memories. All carefully preserved, or replaced when they became moth-eaten. He fingered a red-and-gold lily-patterned one that she'd loved especially, and fought back tears.

"I miss you," he whispered to the ghosts, hoping hers was among them. "Wait for me, my beloved."

The silence sighed.

Far in the back, he found a couple simple outfits for travelling, serviceable black _hakama_ and deep green _haori._ He gathered them up and fled the room before the tears gained a victory. The_ shoji _slapped shut with more force than he'd intended, and he winced. He hoped he would never, ever have to go through it again.

"Here," he said, handing the clothing to the woman who wasn't her, who wasn't _his, _who wasn't the one he wanted more than life. "These should fit."

She stared at them, then at him, eyes wide.

_She knows, _he thought, and the pain was suddenly new again, a live thing tearing his heart to ribbons in his chest. He turned away and stared impassively out the great windows.

"These are..."

_Do not say it! Please, do not say it! _

_"._..beautiful."

He breathed a sigh of relief and banished the image of a rosy-cheeked, wild-haired demoness who no longer occupied the room on the other side of the door he never went through. _My love, forgive me._ He turned his back as Izayoi donned the clean clothes thankfully.

"We'll stop at the nearest hot spring so you can wash the rest of the blood off. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

She sounded so subdued and downtrodden. He almost wished she'd yell at him for something. It was disheartening, seeing his only real ally look as though they'd already lost the war.

"You still have the talisman."

She looked at him reproachfully. "It would be pretty hard to lose it."

"Stranger things have occurred. Where is Jaken?"

"Here, my lord!" chirrupped the toad, startling both of them. The staff Inutaisho had asked him to fetch was clasped in his tiny hands. It was several times taller than him, nearly Izayoi's height. One of its faces was an old man, the other a lovely young woman. There seemed nothing else remarkable about it. "Those who needed to be informed of your departure have been, my bags are packed, supplies have been gathered and are packed on the lady's dragon demon. Is there anything else?"

Inutaisho almost smiled. Almost. But not really. This toad was a rare discovery indeed. "Very good, Jaken. No, thank you. Let us go."

The toad and seer filed out ahead of him. He paused and looked back at the pale rice-paper _shoji _that separated him from the river of memory behind it. _Goodbye, my love,_ he thought, feeling his heart crack and shatter. _I will be along in time. Wait for me._

It was his imagination, he knew, but he thought he caught a flash of silver hair and mischievous golden eyes. She would wait.

For him, death could not come soon enough.

**XxxxxxxX**

**A/N: **I have no author's note. I am crying. Leave me alone unless you have candy.

Remember when I said at the beginning that Inupapa x Izayoi isn't the only ship in this fic? This is another one, and you haven't seen the last of it.


	6. Of Memories Past

**A/N: **The journey begins!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter VI: Of Memories Past**_

**xxxxx**

_When you have completed ninety-five percent of your journey, you are halfway there. -Japanese proverb_

They made a rather sorry procession, he thought, looking back over them to the fading walls of his castle.

One low-level dragon demon, probably good muscle in a fight but good for little else.

One low-level toad demon, very good at organizing things and being sycophantic, but good for little else.

And one human woman, a seer with a fair amount of the gift, modestly good with a bow or dagger, good for predicting dangerous situations and looking pretty. And little else.

_What have I come to? _he wondered.

They walked in silence but for the toad's incessant chattering for a good ways through the darkening woods. The moon rose silently, silvering the branches and remaining leaves. It smelled like autumn, decaying leaves and cooling water.

Then, it smelled like salt. He suddenly became aware of her laboured breathing behind him and turned. Tears ran silently down her cheeks like mercury in the moonlight. They'd been walking for hours, and she was wounded. He gave himself another mental kick. There would indeed be a bruise on his brain.

"Don't stop on my account," she blurted, cutting him off when she saw him stop and open his mouth. "I'll be fine, let's keep going."

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "If you keep going like this, tomorrow you won't be able to move." He knew what the best solution would be to this dilemma, but was reluctant to lower himself to it. Daiyoukai were _not _pack animals, and the thought of her so close made his skin itch. But it was evidently either that or stay within range of the castle for a whole night, and that was much more unpalatable.

He sighed and pulled his armour off along with the great tongues of fur that identified him as inuyoukai, and tied them to the dragon. Then he knelt, feeling strangely naked, and pulled his long queue out of the way. "Get on."

She gasped. "I couldn't..."

"_Now, _woman. Do not try my patience. We need to get as far away from the castle as possible. This way, pressure will be off all your injuries." He knew she saw the reason, but she was still reluctant. "If you tell no one, I won't kill you for it," he promised, with a hint of humour. She sniffled, and a moment later she was securely ensconced on his back, her chin looking over his shoulder. _She's light as a feather! _he noted incredulously. _Why didn't I think of this earlier? _

"Jaken, ride the dragon. We're going airborne." The toad scrambled to climb the dragon as Inutaisho launched for the skies. Izayoi shrieked a little, but not more than was to be expected of anyone. Her arms tightened around his chest, belying her fear. He knew that it would not take long to dissipate, so he remained up where he was. And sure enough, within a few minutes of silent soaring her stranglehold loosened and she relaxed.

"Everything looks so tiny!" she marveled, forgetting her fear to lean out and stare down at the miniature landscape. "They're like toys!" Awe-stricken, she stared unblinking at the unfurling landscape beneath her. Her hands were still holding on to his shoulders, but only lightly, for balance.

Inutaisho, meanwhile, was trying to get used to the feeling of someone using him as a packhorse, even if it was his idea and voluntary. It wasn't the weight, his armour was heavier than her-- it was more the warmth and movement that was unsettling to him. No living thing had shared his space for a hundred years, and even then it had only been one particular person. Izayoi's not-herness was deeply disturbing him.

They flew like that for a while, her infectuous joy brightening the sky like a second moon. The clouds passed by like memories.

He thought about Mai. He'd only been four hundred years old when he'd been mated to her, but demons have a long memory, and her face that first time was imprinted on his mind in silver lines and rosy shadows. He let his eyes go blank and fell backwards through two and half millenia.

xxxxx

_He smoldered in not-so-silent fury, glaring into his tall father's cold, narrowed eyes. "I was to choose! You promised I could choose my own mate, when the time came! Why have you broken your promise? And why her? You know I've never liked her, or her family. I don't understand!" _

_He was young, and volatile, and only just beginning to be allowed to make decisions for himself. That the privilege had been taken away so soon without explanation rankled more than a little. _

_"What about Umira? You know I only want her. I love her. She loves me. She'll be devastated if I'm forced to marry someone else." _

_His father's impassive face infuriated him. _

_"Answer me!" _

_The great golden eyes narrowed. "Do not be an idiot," the great demon lord bit out. "First, duty comes before love for the Daiyoukai. If we are to avoid war with the Iruka clan, this match is desperately needed. Secondly, you do not 'love' your little half-breed toy. She is not pureblood inuyoukai, being tainted with wolfblood, therefore she is not suitable for you. You have had your fun. Now it is time to be a man." The tall silver form turned in the light from the open shoji. "Do not disappoint me with any more foolish rantings. You are my son. Do me proud." _

_Tears of frustration burned in Inutaisho's eyes, but he fiercely held them back as he watched his father leave and slide the shoji shut behind him. Then he let them flow, but only for a moment. Taiyoukai did not weep. _

_The shadow beyond the door paused._

_"She is waiting in the courtyard. Do your duty." _

_Inutaisho angrily dashed the wetness off his cheeks and stood, muscles clenched. "Very well, Father. Your will be done." _

_The fury was still there in his voice, but controlled. _

_Inumaru lingered a moment longer, then moved off. A silent Inutaisho followed sullenly into the bright sunlight of the courtyard. He blinked a moment, and then his eyes focused and he saw her for the first time since they had both been children._

_Gentle, honey coloured eyes regarded him calmly from beneath a thin veil. _

_Suddenly, all his ranting seemed childish and selfish. She stood with perfect grace, endless silver hair cloaking her shoulders, indistinguishable with the flowing white gown she wore. There were five freckles on her right cheek, but that was her only imperfection. If they could even be called imperfections, that was; even they seemed to contribute to the glory of the whole. _

_His eyes met hers... and Umira and his 'love' for her became distant, painless memories. _

_Had there ever been a time when he did not love this goddess? It was more that her physical perfection-- Urima had that too, all high-level youkai did. It was the golden light in her eyes, the tranquillity and warmth that flowed from them, and the deep pool of mischievous energy that lay behind the serenity. It was the way she stood, so sure of herself without being arrogant. It was the way she looked at him without the hatred that might rightfully have been there. It was the way she just _was_, without any falsity or deception. _

_"My lady Mai," he greeted her quietly. The expanse of courtyard between them had vanished, once upon a somewhen. He lifted her slim, unblemished hand and pressed his lips to it. "Have you been well?" Words. Stupid, meaningless, polite words. _

_She nodded and thanked him, but her voice was a silver rushing in his ears. _

xxxxx

She thought about Akira, her best friend when she was growing up. She wondered what the cougar demon was doing now.

_Where are you, Aki? I miss you so. _

xxxxx

_"Aki, can we play somewhere else? The human smells bad." _

_Izayoi's eyes welled. She thought she'd be used to it by now, but every comment like that threw her anew. _

_"Why do you always hang around with her? She can't run as fast as us, or jump as high, or even fly. She's slow and boring. Come play with us, Aki, please!" _

_They always acted like she wasn't there, like she was invisible or deaf. There was nothing in the world quite so horrible as the feeling she got when she realized nobody really liked her. She was... tolerated. That was all. She bowed her head and waited for Aki's apology and subsequent swift departure. _

_And so, she was startled to see him standing his ground, between her and the malicious demonlings, throwing his shadow protectively over her._

_"She smells like flowers," Akira snarled, "and she runs plenty fast enough for me. Besides which, she's much more pleasant company than you could hope to be in a thousand years. So go away. We're playing." His child's voice was still deep, and vibrating with anger. _

_Her tears spilled over. It was indescribable, the feeling of being protected, of not being alone, and she was afraid to breathe in case it shattered, like icicles in the early spring sun. _

_The demonlings harrumphed and fled in a pack, leaving her and Akira contentedly alone. He turned and knelt with her on the warm grass._

_"Are you all right, Iza-chan? They're idiots, don't listen to them." _

_She flung her arms around his tawny neck, helpless to stop herself. Her tears flowed into his sandy hair as he held her, silent and gentle. _

_"Why do they hate me?" she wailed, heartbroken and uncomprehending. _

_He smoothed small circles on her back._

_"Hush, they don't, really. You're just different, is all. They don' t know how to deal with you, so they're nervous and they act all brave and snotty like that. They're not so bad if they know you and know how to act around you. We'll teach them, you and me. Don't worry, I'll keep you safe." He briskly patted her back. "There now, your nose is all runny. This is a clean tunic, my mother'll yell at you if you muck it up." _

_She snorted and giggled despite herself. _

_Akira looked deeply into her eyes, searchingly. Then, he flashed her a brilliant smile. "Come on, I bet you can't beat me back to the pond!"_

_"Oh, how you dream!" she snuffled. "Such wild dreams." She rocketed to her feet and took off running for the pond, hearing him laugh behind her. _

_He let her win, as always._

xxxxx

Jaken dreamed of eating daisies.

Ah-Un thought of flying.

xxxxx

An arrow whizzing past Inutaisho's nose broke their reverie.

"The border!" Jaken shrieked. "The guards are shooting at us. Aieeeee!" He scrambled to shield himself behind the bags and armour on Ah-Un's back. "Save me!" A well-aimed shot thudded into the pack bare inches from Jaken's head, and we began to weep great amphibian tears of terror.

"Damn!" Inutaisho breathed.

Izayoi was silent, her breathing short and irregular, fingers dug deeply into his shoulders. He felt obscurely grateful that she did not have claws.

"Hold on, woman."

"Wha...AAAAAAAAAAAYYYAAAAAA!"

Inutaisho let go of the energy holding him up and plummeted like a stone into the safety of the trees. He dodged expertly all the reaching branches that threatened to clothesline him on his precipitous downwards path, but Izayoi saw only thousands of hard, wooden threats flying straight for her head. She screamed helplessly, trying to burrow into Inutaisho's back.

The endless descent took only a few moments in real time, and Inutaisho landed lightly behind a good thick tree for protection. Taken unawares at the sudden cessation of movement, Izayoi fell off, landing in a vaguely sentient, shivering heap on the mossy floor.

"Don't _ever _do that again," she whispered.

"It was that or be shot," he snapped irritably. "Live with it."

She was silent, shaking with leftover terror from the close brush with death and the reminder of her own fragile mortality.

"My loooooorrrddd!" shrieked Jaken, falling from the sky to land with an unhealthy crunch in an unceremonious pile at Inutaisho's feet. Ah-Un landed seconds later, seemingly unperturbed. Izayoi threw her arms around a scaly leg and held on for dear life.

"We must move."

She mutely shook her head, tightening her grasp around Ah-Un's sturdy leg.

Inutaisho scowled, walked over, and hauled her bodily to her feet. "If you want to live, we must go _now_. If you are going to be inclined to endanger the rest of us, I will leave you here." He left unspoken how ridiculous that was, since the talisman in her belly was the whole reason they were _trying _to cross the border into Sakenmaru's peninsula.

Thankfully, she was terrified and mentally scattered enough not to notice.

When he saw that she was not going to be of any help, he scooped her up and sprinted for the border. The guards were waiting for them in formation on their watchtower, arrows drawn. He shifted Izayoi to one arm and sliced the whistling arrows out of the air with his claws. Forty feet... thirty...twenty... ten... he could see the whites of their terrified eyes as he closed on them. They expected to die, he knew. But he was in a hurry, and didn't want to have to stop and wash the blood off.

So he bolted straight past the tower, assuming they would not have arrow-slits on the _back _side of their tower as the threats would presumably be coming from outside, not within their own lands. He was right, there were none- but what there _was _was a marching set of guards coming to relieve their compatriots, on the ground right in the path of his flight. How had he not seen them?

It was too late to dodge, or block. One vicious iron point tore into his upper leg, and another nicked Izayoi on its way into his gut. He howled, and trampled them into the dust on his way through.

_Must keep going! _he thought, realizing that if he stopped to engage them, Izayoi would most likely pay for it with her life. His powerful legs pounded the earth as though trying to launch off into the sky-- but that was too dangerous, they would be an open target that way.

A dark treeline appeared ahead. He redoubled his sprint, eating the wind. An arrow thudded-- _agony-- _into his back, and he stumbled. They hurtled into the welcoming darkness of the forest, not slowing for long minutes, until he was absolutely certain they were not being followed. Then he groaned, missed his footing, and collapsed with Izayoi beneath him.

She winced at his weight, but could immediately discern that he had more pressing issues than she. "Inutaisho-sama!" she cried in alarm, wriggling out from under him with difficulty. He'd at least managed to fall on his side, so that the arrows in his leg and belly did not get driven deeper in.

He smelled blood, not his own, and lifted his head to see her bleeding freely from a slash in her side. _Wonderful, now we are all wounded, _he thought gaily, delirious with pain.

Dimly, he heard her warn him of something. Pain flowered redly in his back and he howled, blind with agony. She was pulling the arrows out. His leg was next, and the pain was worse yet, if possible.

"Only one left now, hang on," she whispered, wincing audibly.

And then she yanked out the shaft in his stomach, and he wished himself dead. The wounds were narrow, though deep, and he felt his body energetically working on healing them. In five minutes, perhaps, he would be able to move again.

In the distance, he heard the guards shouting to each other as they fanned out to search for him. He swore silently, praying for a few more minutes. Izayoi was binding his throbbing wounds with strips of her haori expertly and swiftly.

_Blessed woman! The healing will go much faster if the wounds are protected. _"Help me stand," he grated, and she obeyed immediately.

She was stronger than she looked.

"Are they following?" she asked timidly, and grimaced at his nod. "Shit," she remarked blackly, and he glanced over at her in surprise.

He hadn't thought her the type to swear, but she pulled it off admirably, without sounding... well, like a woman trying to swear.

Ah-Un and Jaken finally caught up, rather arrow-riddled themselves. Thankfully, the arrows in Ah-Un's hide had not penetrated very deeply, and the one in Jaken's shoulder was a simple matter to extract and bind. Inutaisho kept a hand clapped over his mouth to muffle his woeful wails and shrieks until she was finished.

The guards were very close now.

At his signal, she hopped onto his back and they took off, slowed considerably by their collective injuries but still much faster than the human guards. The forest swallowed them without a trace, and they changed direction to head for the Southlord's castle.

They were now in the Southern Lands... hostile territory. He prayed to whatever was listening that they could make it to Sakenmaru's castle before the guards raised the alarm... he was strong, but twenty-five thousand furious youkai could overwhelm even him.

He tucked his head and ran faster, valiantly ignoring the bonfires festering in his flesh where the arrows had been.

The heart of the woods welcomed them with open arms, coating them in shadows and silence.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	7. Nook and Cranny

**A/N: **Wow... this incense shit is _powerful._ Whee.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter VII: Nook and Cranny**_

**xxxxx**

_Her mind lives tidily, apart _

_From cold and noise and pain_

_And bolts the door against her heart,_

_Out wailing in the rain._

_-Dorothy Parker_

It rained like the heart of spring.

The wind gave birth to countless raindrops on the fly, and they were drenched. Truly soaked. The kind of saturated that only happens in a torrential downpour, where the skin feels clammy and bloated, and the hair clings to the face like stringy leeches. Their very bones were cold and wet.

She walked as close behind him as she dared, searching for some shelter from the wind. She had been walking for the past hour, after her knees blistered from rubbing against his belt. It was a baleful night that stank of decay.

He walked tall and pretended to be unaffected by the suffocating dark that swallowed their joy and buried their clarity.

"This night has wings," she whispered. "Make them stop."

His brow wrinkled, but even as he did so he heard them.

_Flutterwhisper, flapthud, sssshhhhhh. _

The raindrop's rhythmic thudding did indeed sound like the flutter of millions of fae wings. His spine chilled. He was superstitious, all _youkai_ were. In a world of priestesses and sorcerors, superstitions were more often than not valid. And so, the fluttering beat of the rotting night made his hackles raise. The air was so heavy, like a wet pillow over his face, and breathing was a dank struggle. The stars were cloaked and shuttered behind the roiling cauldron overhead.

Fear and Apprehension alighted on his shoulder, black ravens, and for once he heeded their fell counsel.

"Search for shelter."

She gasped with relief, a wrenching sound that made his scalp twitch. His wounds were throbbing, almost healed, and he would welcome the chance to rest.

"My lord, if I may-- perhaps I can be of assistance here." From within her sodden, pungent leather bag she drew a flat-faced amethyst. Its surface seemed dull in the lack of light, as though it was absorbing the darkness.

Vague forms stirred uneasily in its depths, and he started before realizing that they were merely the heavily swaying branches above.

He felt... edgy. Unsettled. It was unfamiliar, and he fought the weakness it brought. There was nothing hiding in the dark stronger than himself. So why did the mocking fear not abate?

She held the blackened crystal lightly in her hands and stared into its inky depths. Her eyes fluttered, and to his great discomfort, began to glow faintly violet at their irises.

Magic frightened him, like nothing else. Armies he could handle; blood was his element. Physical things he could merely rend with his claws and be done with. But this mystic, invisible flow was impossible to fight against. There was nothing to resist, nothing to throw his energy at. And so he disliked magic. It was not under his power.

His attention returned to Izayoi. She was swaying, her eerie eyes silently trailing silver-lilac tears. Without thought, he caught her shoulders and stabilized her. Her frail form trembled beneath his fingers, but he did not feel stronger than her. There were different shades of power. The death in his claws was one. The light in her eyes was another.

"Aahhhh," she breathed rapturously, and the brilliance in her eyes became blinding, bringing a half-second of moonrise to the corners of their little cubbyhole. Then all the light fled and they fell into the warm, lascivious arms of shadow. She held herself up a moment longer, rigid with pain, or ecstasy, and then fell slowly forward into him like wilting nightshade.

"There is a cave... two _ri _ahead, about a quarter _ri _up the hill on the right. It is covered in brush, and hard to see. There is..." she paused, searching for strength, "a tree on the left side of the entrance, split in two by lightning. Look for that."

She was exhausted, he could see. He wondered why. He had seen seers in action before, at least from behind and around _shoji_-edges, and they always got up afterwards, seemingly without ill effect.

"Please... hurry. There is something strange here, I cannot see the whole of it-- this place is flooded with mana. Once we get to the cave, I can set up a sort of barrier, but until then there is nothing to protect us and we cannot survive long in this concentration."

Another pause, longer, and he could feel her fighting for consciousness.

"When the sun... rises, I can use its power to carve a tunnel through the maelstrom. The moon is not our ally tonight-- it's pulling the mana in tides. When it sets, the mana should stabilize..."

She fell off in the middle of the sentence, abruptly folding into his arms like a house of cards.

He lifted her easily and sprinted for the place she had described. The utterly miserable Jaken and jittery two-headed dragon followed, trudging through the mud despondently.

The cave was not hard to find. There the tree stood she had seen: scarred and witchbent, agonizingly rent into two claws of sundered black, reaching for the sky with bitter, raging fingers.

Shuddering, he tore through the brush and hurried into the cave. It was small, but large enough for the four of them. And blessedly dry. He became conscious, strangely, of how large he was. He had to bend to fit in, where the dragon walked in easily.

His black_ hakama _were thick with mud, and his wine-red _haori_ was in little better condition. There was no remedy for it tonight, so he sighed and tried to ignore it. The constant wet slap against his ankles was ferociously uncomfortable, though.

With some difficulty, he pulled the relatively dry blankets out of Ah-Un's packs, made a rough bed on the floor, and laid Izayoi down gently. She looked tiny and frail, lying wet and unconscious on the damp fur. He wondered how her injuries were-- the bruise across her ribs must have been black and yellow-green by then, and the internal damage from the demon's assault must have made walking sheer agony. It was so easy to forget when she never made a sound of protest.

It was a kind of strength. Inutaisho understood strength, and tended to respect it. Perhaps it was not such a stretch to respect it in a human, a woman no less.

_You would have liked that, Mai-- always on about your precious humans, those last years. _

_(marigolds and sunshine, golden shadows and gilded hair_)

_Oh, Mai._ She had loved the humans so, spending more and more time during her last years in their company, learning their ways. He had not understood. Did not understand now.

The woman on the blanket stirred and moaned, and he started. This little human was no different-- all full of twisting hallways and contradictions, and secretive, deep little passions.

He settled next to her, back against the wall. Jaken and Ah-Un were already fast asleep, the former's snoring somehow quiet and stertorous at the same time. The terrible aura had not lessened at all- it was playing merry hell with the little hairs on the back of his neck, and the old, primal thing that lived quietly at the back of his skull stirred uneasily at its touch.

He recalled her speaking of a barrier. She would have to be awake to create that. Though she looked very peaceful and it gave him a twinge of guilt to do so, he shook her gently.

She moaned, and the twinge sharpened. Her shoulder in his fingers was cold. Youkai who were that cold were generally dead. It gave him an instinctual chill when the cold being before him moved, still alive.

_Nothing alive should be this cold._

"Did we make it?" she asked faintly, and he grunted in the affirmative. A great sigh flooded out of her. "Good. I'll try to make the barrier. Hand me my bag."

Wordlessly he complied, and watched as she fished a different crystal out, this one milky white but not opaque, somehow. She murmured over it a moment, brow scrunched in fierce concentration, and a then a tremulous shimmering bubble of the palest cyan, not unalike its soapy kin, expanded out to envelop the cave. The moment it was large enough, her chant changed indescribably and it turned faintly violet and steadied.

"This is not like a miko's barrier," she explained in a whisper. "It will keep _everything_ out, not just demons. It will also keep us from leaving. It goes both ways. Do not try to leave the cave until I've let it down. You won't enjoy the consequences."

Her relief was palpable as she returned the crystal and slumped into the furs, unceremoniously unconscious again.

He felt it too, the sudden silence of malevolent wings and the absence of curling darkness. The cave was faintly lit by the slowly pearling shield, holding the blackness at bay beyond its delicate walls. He felt as though a great heavy creature had lifted off his back, and breathed deeply in relief. Taking advantage of the safety, he stretched out next to her and joined her in oblivion.

xxxxx

It was her screaming that woke him.

Or possibly, whatever limb it was that had just smashed him in the gut. One or the other. He hauled himself into consciousness, into a world of agonized sound and terror. He turned to her, expecting to see her dying or in seizure, but was instead greeted by the face of her nightmare.

_(crazy mad insane possessed) _

Her eyes were wide open, unseeing, and her mouth stretched wide in the reverberating shriek that had woken him. Her limbs thrashed violently in the throes of whatever horror had a hold of her.

_Youkai_ did not dream unless they wished to. When the wished to, the dreams were of their own choosing, and usually pleasant. Nightmares were far outside his realm of knowledge, and he felt strangely useless.

"_No!_" she keened, the agony in her voice raw and untouchable. Unable to stand the sound, he shook her violently, claws carelessly gouging her flesh, until she gasped and arched her back, hurtling into the real world as though falling from a great height, or possibly rocketing up from a great depth. Racking sobs, sick and choking, shook her in muscle-tearing spasms and she curled into the tightest ball she could.

Jaken stared wide-eyed and silent from the back of the cave, helpless before the sheer _force _of her agony.

Inutaisho laid a clawed hand awkwardly on her shoulder, trying to comfort her and feeling as though he was reaching blindly into murky water. "Was it a vision?"

Mutely, she shook her head, and he knew she did not see him. The nightmare still had her halfway in its crimson claws, hissing in her ear.

"No," she gasped, voice wrenching from her tightly clenched chest. "A memory."

She blindly reached for him, and closed on the hand that rested on her shoulder in a death grip.

He stilled, and desperately tried not to harm her. How should she know his boundaries? Expecting that she should was unfair. But still... that cold, clammy hand made him want to retch and push her away. Mai's skin had been hot as his own.

It took a long time to gain control again.

And when he'd finally reestablished the iron chains around that impulse, it was only to realize that he'd won the battle and lost the war.

He felt scattered. Why should it be so difficult to control his thoughts and actions, when he'd kept them under iron control all his life? His mind seemed to be acting entirely on its own, wandering into realms he'd studiously avoided for seven centuries.

What demons rested in her memory that could do this even reaching through the years?

He felt protective. Also, quietly furious with whatever or whoever had done this to a woman who was normally so strong and proud. These were alien and most definitely unwelcome emotions.

Mai, with her power almost as great as his, and the protected life she had led, had never inspired this in him. He explored it wonderingly, and found it larger and more tangled than anything in his experience. He felt like a savage being shown a ship for the first time, and being told what it did. The strange feelings seemed ridiculous, and pointless, and useless, and... beautiful as polished pine strakes on sorrow grey surf.

It was _such _a beautiful pain.

He drank it in, savoring it, and wanted to spit it out like bilge; scrutinized it like a rare gem and wanted to smash it under his fist.

_She is unlovely, and weak, and short-lived as an insect. Pain is her lifelong companion. So why am I so angry that someone dared to give her more?_

Bewildered, he only stared at the hand and wondered what came next.

So when she rocketed to her knees, stared him wildly in the eye, and mutely pleaded for something he couldn't define but understood nonetheless, he made a choice. Easy as rainfall, he slid out of his old, entrenched rut and nodded.

Her wild hair billowed as she flung herself into his chest, forehead colliding with his collarbone, and sobbed her torn, mortally wounded heart out into his stillness.

His arms closed instinctively around her, as he had once cradled Mai. It felt like a betrayal, but he could not bring himself to push her away. She was so vulnerable, wound like a limpet into his robes and shaking fit to fall apart. She, who was usually so stoic. The duality of her engrossed him, and he picked at the tangle of it with absorption for long minutes, fruitlessly.

It took a moment to realize she was speaking.

"I'd forgotten," she sobbed, confusing him even more. "Locked it away in the darkest cranny of my mind. I wish it was still forgotten."

He smoothed the hair from her clammy tear-streaked face in a parody of tenderness that also felt like a betrayal.

"Forgotten what?" A distant memory of his mother's voice and her gentle lessons echoed in his head. _Make them talk about it so it doesn't fester._

Against his chest, Izayoi shook her head and clung tighter yet. "Don't make me go there," she whispered through the shivers, "please?"

"As you wish."

They were silent for a long time then, hours perhaps, entwined around eachother.

Inutaisho's heart raged against him, longing for his beloved and hating itself for its enthrallment with the human. She was inferior, and that should have been all there was to it.

It _should _have, everything in him from his parent's words in his childhood to the primal instincts that knew the difference between 'human' and 'demon' said so.

But it wasn't, of course that wasn't all. She was so fragile and so evanescent, that to his demon eyes she seemed briefer than a butterfly, a grace note on the score of time. Hardly even noticeable. But... in this moment, what she was was _real_, achingly true in every line.

He'd forgotten what reality felt like, cloistered in his ever-bright home away from the dark and ugly-beautiful side of truth. She was the darkness that had been missing from his falsely light life, but here she was now, representing it with shattering clarity. His eyes wandered the midnight maze of her hair, and his thoughts awaited him there.

He was at the top of something now, he realized, something slippery and treacherous, and he couldn't decide which was worse-- staying in the shining, careful world he'd made for himself, or falling into the endless dark she offered and remembering truth. There would be pain, in the latter, but also glory. In the former-- there would be no pain, but without darkness to frame it all that light would fade and turn to grey death. There was life in the darkness. Truth in the pain.

He couldn't decide. So he laid himself down and surrendered for the twilight hours between him and dawn. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he would see what he had become in these mana-drenched hours of darkness and choose accordingly.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Despite my best efforts to flesh this chapter out, it refuses to allow itself to be lengthened. I apologize for its brevity. It's kind of sparkly, though, isn't it? I blame the alcohol for any and all words that are in there simply because they are shiny.

It's all Captain Morgan's fault.


	8. Pendulum

**A/N: **Garth Brooks is a genius. I don't care if you don't like country music or him. He is still a genius.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter VIII: Pendulum**_

**xxxxx**

_She had lost the power of conversation but not, unfortunately, the power of speech. -George Bernard Shaw_

_What is the colour of humiliation? _

After a great deal of fabulously distracting thought involving kittens, buckets, and a variety of flatulent noises, Izayoi decided it was a sort of deep shade of rose. Like the colour cheeks turn when blushing. The events of the night before played merrily through her head, trampling her dignity beneath their merry feet. Speculatively, she wondered if her mind actually took _pleasure _in flagellating itself for hours on end.

Breakfast was a silent affair, and she amused herself by trying to determine which method he was planning to use to kill her by reading the shadows in his hair. Death seemed a foregone conclusion. The cold rice tasted like maggots in her dry mouth.

_I'm dead. I'm so dead. I'm going to die. What in the seven hells was I thinking? _

She sat in a private bubble of misery for the first three hours, crouched on his back while trying to touch as little of him as possible, which made everything rather awkward and uncomfortable for both of them. She wished he would stop playing around and just get it over with so the suffering would finally end.

_I, a mere human, dared to throw myself at the mighty demon lord --who is to me as a giant is to a gnat-- like some shameless hussy! I then proceeded to slather his pristine-- well, perhaps not so pristine-- robes with my digusting tears and snot! And then... _then_... I had the temerity to _fall asleep! _Anyone else would have been dead already... perhaps he just delayed my execution so that I could stew a while in my own misery. _

She paused to consider that a moment.

_In that case... I retract my humiliation. He is a vicious, inhuman scoundrel who has no heart and I hate him. _

The woods were innocuously golden and ochre with autumn, clean of any hint of the raging mess of the night before. Sun filtered warmly down through the trees. It was no longer visually frightening, but she could still sense the immense destructive power of the backed-up mana just beyond the walls of the shield she'd somehow managed to build for them to travel in. It was... ominous, like standing on a dwindling island in the midst of a great, slow-moving flood. The currents were all around, invisible but deadly powerful. The autumn trees were withering, if one looked close enough, and nary a bird flew the sky.

Mana was the stuff of life... but too much of it was death, as is the same with most things.

The speed of Inutaisho's feet brought them to Lord Sakenmaru's castle by sundown. It was an imposing affair, several stories high and clinging to a mountainside like sharp-edged fungal growth. It had been years since either of them had been there, and the changes wrought were astounding. Where once the place had fairly shone, a bright beacon of cheer and warmth, it was now a place of death. Moss grew green and slimy on the crumbling walls, the lanterns were pale and sickly, and the guards were listless and silent. There was nothing left of the proud palace of ten years ago. What had happened?

She dug her fingers into his shoulders, knowing he felt the same nameless pain she did over seeing a great thing fallen. The silence still lay between them, though, so she said nothing. As they approached, he let her down to her feet and their small party approached the great wooden gate, moldering with neglect. The whole castle stank of decay.

The sentries called down, voices falling flat on the stagnant air. "Who goes there?" Profound uncaring echoed in the soldier's voice.

It was unsettling, to say the least.

"Lord Inutaisho of the Western Lands, with his retinue," Jaken squawked gracelessly.

Izayoi tensed, waiting for the flurried reaction and flying arrows that she expected after an announcement like that. For a long, long moment, she waited.

Then..."Enter," and the massive gate swung open with a groan, pushing rank mud out in a rut as it went. No shouts of alarm, no arrows.

Apprehensively, they passed through into the outer courtyard, to find more of the same. Far fewer people than there should have been, and those listless and flat-eyed as they went about their tasks on leaden feet. She inhaled shallowly, trying not to smell the rancid scent of decay that hung about in a greenish-grey miasma.

No one paid them any attention. "I don't like this," she said, breaking the long silence.

Inutaisho made a low sound. "Stay close."

She obeyed, sidling closer to his left side. His hand hovered over his left hip unconsciously, itching to draw the sword that hung there. She felt comforted he was there and knew how to wield that long sharp length. Especially since the foreboding atmosphere of the courtyard was getting worse by the minute.

"Where is Lord Sakenmaru?" Inutaisho boomed. "I would speak with him."

The little hairs on her arms rose when nobody even turned to look at them, merely continuing on their paths like puppets, empty and soulless.

"Inutaisho..." she squeaked, forgetting to add an honourific. "Something is really wrong here, my intuition is going haywire."

He made the low noise again and drew the longsword. In a tight cluster, they advanced to the main doors of the castle. When no one obstructed them, they entered and headed for the throne room.

Her shoulders were trying to climb the sides of her head, the muscles tightening and hunching. "Something very bad happened here." That wasn't quite right. "_Is_ happening."

Inutaisho threw the throne room doors open.

And everything became clear.

The great lion demon, Sakenmaru had once filled the battlefield or the court room with his boisterous presence. People used to know he was coming because they could feel his charisma pushing the walls apart.

How far the mighty have to fall.

The golden beast of the gentle south lay withered and barely alive in his throne. His long tawny hair was matted and tangled, his beard crusted with his own saliva. Around him coiled a smoky shape, writhing and undulating.

_A binding spell._

Tendrils of shadow snaked from it through the walls, and Izayoi would have bet her last copper coin that each tendril led to a person. She prayed to every god she could think of that their souls were still in their bodies. If they weren't, they were doomed.

_Please, please..._ she felt the need to salvage _something _from this cesspit.

Sakenmaru was sealed, and his subjects possessed. He was helpless to do anything, frozen in a catatonic state, dreaming dark and convoluted dreams not of his making. The South was paralyzed, under the control of whoever the serpent-seal belonged to.

"There's your answer, Inutaisho," she whispered. "He didn't turn against you, after all."

He turned to her as though to question how she knew that was his thought, but couldn't form the words. His oldest, staunchest ally lay in a puddle of his own drool, utterly defenseless-- she understood what he didn't say.

And then understood what he didn't ask. "I can't," she said. "I'm sorry."

He nodded. "Do not worry yourself, I would not expect you to have that ability. We need a miko for this. We need Naruka."

"Midoriko-sama's heir?" she gasped. "You know her?" He turned and regarded her coolly.

"Not personally. She is an ally of the family."

She was astounded. The thought that an influential youkai family would have anything to do with a priestess was completely counterintuitive-- it just wasn't done.

"A _secret _ally."

That went without saying. Miko did not consort with demons. Ever. They purified them out of existence for a living. And Midoriko's heir...

Midoriko was the closest thing to famous a priestess could get. Powerful even among the powerful, every demon across every island had feared her deeply. Her death was very recent and unexpected. There was a rumour going around that her death had resulted in the creation of a very powerful artifact, or perhaps it was the other way around-- the powerful artifact had caused her death by its creation. If that was true, demons everywhere would be very interested in getting their hands on said artifact.

Izayoi hoped she'd hidden it well, for she could count on one hand the demons she would trust with any more power than they already had. Most of those were also dead. The priestess, however, was an idol to her, and she could not imagine her leaving something so dangerous where anyone could find it. Her death was a tragedy, abated only by the fact that she had left behind a well-liked successor.

Midoriko had taught that one student everything she knew before dying. That was Naruka. Her power was rumoured to be far less impressive than Midoriko's, but their temperaments were very similar. Her selflessness was legendary.

"Jaken!" he bellowed, making Izayoi jump.

"Yes, milord?" The poor toad looked utterly shellshocked.

"Take the dragon and fetch Naruka, the miko. You will find her in a small town called Nishiri, on the west coast."

"I know it, my lord. I go to do your bidding." He fair fled the dank hall, his relief palpable.

"And now we wait."

She repressed a moan at the thought. This was his decision.

"Can you find us a cave somewhere beyond the flood, but close to here?" he asked, surprisingly.

She nodded vigorously. Cave meant safety, safety meant sleep, and sleep meant rest. She was tired enough to lie right down on the filthy flagstone floor of the great hall without a single care.

"Good. Do it."

She complied, swamped with relief that he didn't want to stay in the horrible fallen place that had once been beautiful. Out of the corner of her eyes, she kept seeing people laughing and clean halls full of smiling, bustling servants. It was like being surrounded by ghosts. She wanted to cry and hide under the covers.

The crystal leapt to life, fed by the enormous force of mana all around them. She was almost surprised it didn't shatter with the force of its radiance. It took everything she had just to bend it to her will.

Her crystal-enhanced vision skidded crazily over the landscape until the trees blurred and the line between earth and sky was obliterated. With an enormous determination, she forced it to slow down and scan at a manageable rate.

_Tree, tree, tree, tree, mountain, tree, cloud, sky, tree, tree, tree, bush, tree, cave, tree, tree, tree, hotspring, tree, tree, bird in tree, tree... wait, cave?_

The cave was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. It was perched high above the castle proper, carved cosily into the cliff face and a mere ten minute's walk from a spectacular hotspring. From the mouth of the cave jutted a lip of stone, almost like a natural balcony, and there was a path just below the shelf that look to be well trodden. The beauty of it was, because of the angle of the cave's mouth, those on the path could not see the cave unless they looked up at the exact right moment.

They would be able to hear anyone coming, but no one would know they were there. It was absolutely perfect.

She smiled and released the vision, staggering from the snap back of unused energy. Again, the exertion of using the crystal in the mana-saturated environment left her weak and wavering. Wordlessly Inutaisho lifted her off her feet, and she felt pathetically grateful for the courtesy.

"The cave is twenty minute's walk up the mountain. There will be a flat stone sticking out of the mountainside-- the cave's mouth is on top of it, but you won't see it. Just look for the stone."

"Wonderful. Hold on." He crouched slightly, then sprung with frightening speed high into the air.

When had they gotten outside? It was as though she had simply blinked and the castle had vanished.

"If this keeps up, my legs will atrophy," she joked feebly to allay her disquiet at the scene behind them.

He grunted, lips curving slightly. It seemed the atmosphere was affecting him too.

A thought struck her. "Does Jaken know to stay high in the air until he gets beyond the flood?"

They both froze. If he were to land in that maelstrom...

"The dragon will know," Inutaisho said after a moment, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Of course, Ah-Un was sensitive to that. He would never be foolish enough to let himself drown in mana.

"Oh, good," she breathed fervently. "Now I don't have to worry."

He looked down at her, fine black eyebrow quirking quizzically. It made a little furrow in his brow, dimpling the skin.

It struck her suddenly that he was a demon, and that there was a difference between him and a human like her. He was so beautiful she could spend months simply looking and running her fingers over the lines the gods had used to draw him. She felt like a hasty sketch drawing, clumsy and too rough to be allowed to occupy the same space as such a masterpiece.

"You would worry about Jaken?" he queried wryly.

She snorted automatically, trying not to gawk at the beauty she'd suddenly been forcibly reminded of. "No, I was worried about Ah-Un!"

"I think you rather like that little sycophant," he commented.

The lines of his mouth when he spoke were poetry to her. She wanted to kiss him more than she'd wanted anything in her life, but paradoxically also wanted to run as far away from those inhuman golden eyes as she possibly could. Her attraction to him scared the life out of her. "So do you," she countered.

He grunted. "I do not 'like' my servants. If they are efficient, I am pleased with them."

"Of course."

"You try my patience, woman."

"Izayoi!" she yelled despite her weakness. "I have a name, use it!" She really wanted to know what her name would sound like out of those lips. The curiosity was debilitating. She turned her pleading eyes upwards and mutely begged to hear it, even just once.

"No."

That balked her. Frustration threatened to strangle her. _Just like that? Why not? Why? _"...Why not?"

He shrugged, jostling her against his uncomfortably hard chest.

"Because."

She growled at him in what sounded like mock frustration but wasn't. "It's just a name! You'd think I was asking you to kneel and kiss my feet!"

"I feel ill enough without such images."

She gasped. "You.. you... ugh!"

"How articulate of you." The smirk was so evident she didn't even need to look up to see it.

She crossed her arms and sulked. Being away from the ghastly miasma was making her light-hearted, and she found she was quite enjoying the banter. "You are a pompous, self-important, narcissistic windbag," she remarked casually.

He stiffened, and she realized that she was probably the first person _ever _to speak to him that way. When he could kill people without even looking in their general direction, it was probably logical that most people chose not to anger him

If he didn't need her for the path ahead, she felt quite sure she might have just died. The realization gave her goosebumps.

"I'm sorry, for a moment..." she began.

He cut her off. "And you are an astoundingly thickbrained, loudmouthed, disrespectful wench."

She stared at him in open mouthed astonishment.

Not only was she alive, she was quite certain he'd just lowered himself, the great Dog Demon Lord of all Western Nihon, to play her little game. "Oh really? Well, I think you are the most arrogant, cantankerous, coldhearted rapscallion I've ever met," she tested, fingers crossed that she lived to see the next moment.

"Is that so," he nonchalantly replied, and she relaxed. "At least I don't smell."

"I do not smell!" she cried, incensed, then realized she'd lost a point. She folded her arms in a mock sulk. "Damn you."

He chuckled, and the half-smile lit up his entire face. "If you were less valuable, you would have been dead after the first comment," he reminded her.

Sobering, she let her smile fade. "I know. For a moment there, I forgot who you were and was treating you like one of my friends."

He was silent for a moment. "How many friends do you have?"

Taken aback, she counted on her fingers. "About three?"

"So many! They must be very tolerant people if you call them 'self-important windbags' in casual conversation."

She laughed. "Oh, I don't call_ them _that. They've already _earned_ my respect."

It was his turn to laugh. She pressed herself a little closer into the warmth of his chest, knowing the flight was almost over. It caused her no little amount of regret to realize that.

She pointed her finger slightly up and left. "There, there's the cave." It was very small, smaller than it had seemed in her vision. There was room enough for the two of them, but whoever was closer to the entrance might be a little chilled at night. And it would be crowded. She blushed. He looked at it, expression blank.

"This will do." It would be a long three days until Jaken got back, she could just feel it.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **You tell him, girl.


	9. Stolen Music

**A/N: **So, how's it going?

.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter IX: Stolen Music**_

**xxxxx**

_We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. -Japanese proverb_

It was dark again.

There was no storm that night, something that made them both secretly relieved for Jaken and Ah-Un.

They huddled in the cave, her bundled in furs and him stoically pretending he wasn't cold. Below them the castle continued its stilted death march, soulless and rotting from within. Even further below lay the barely restrained lake of frustrated mana, struggling to break free of whatever hold was keeping it mostly below ground.

Despite the force of the storm of last night, it had been caused only by the small amount of mana that had managed to escape the underground medians. If the true fury of _all _the blocked mana were released, they would have been dead, barrier or no. Their narrow escape the night before could not actually be attributed to the shield, she'd realized earlier. It was truly the effects of the amulet that had saved them, which she had astoundingly forgotten all about. As they walked, it absorbed much of the surrounding mana, protecting them from the brunt of the seepage.

"So... what are we going to do for three days?" she asked, feeling a little bit jittery at being alone in close quarters with a demon lord she was fast becoming attracted to. All the beauty she'd seen earlier in the day in the sunlight had become something darker and more seductive in the firelight and shadows of the night.

_Nix on that! _she thought frantically. _Of course he's attractive, all daiyoukai are. Have you forgotten so quickly about...? S_he cut the thought off midsentence. _Don't want to go there. Not going there! _

"Wait?" He sounded as though he was unsure as to whether she was expecting a different answer.

xxxxx

_Is she expecting a different answer? _he wondered. It was only three days, barely an eyeblink to him. He'd slept longer than that before, if he had nothing else to do.

"You mean... just... sit here and do nothing? For three days?"

Apparently, she was.

_What to say now? _"Yes...?"

Her face spread in a tragic expression of woe. "Oh, gods above_,_" she muttered. "Three whole days..."

"Is this onerous to you?"

"Three days is a long time!" she cried.

He stared at her. Perhaps because she was human? Did three days seem so long to her because her total lifespan was so much shorter than his? Pathetic mortals. Three days was hardly long enough to blink properly in. "Find something to occupy yourself, then."

"What will you do?"

He leaned back, shutting his eyes. "Sleep."

She threw up her hands.

"I'm going to look for some food. I feel like stew."

"Do not go out of earshot. Remember that we are in enemy territory." He didn't have to look to know she was rolling her eyes.

"I'm not an idiot. I'm not going further than a quarter _ri,_ thank you for your concern."

When he didn't reply, she ducked out of the cave into the darkness.

xxxxx

She stared around at the bewildering natural garden.

Who could've guessed that a difference of a few hundred _ri _would so drastically change the resident plant life? Hardly any of it looked familiar. In the flickering light of her makeshift reed torch, she scrutinized a low-growing spreading green crawler. It looked a lot like a plant from home that was delicious in stew.

_Probably the same family_, she speculated, and cut some off.

She continued that way for a while, finding plants that looked somewhat familiar and collecting them. It was perhaps not the wisest thing, but she was hungry and very sick of dried fish. Nor were her thinking processes at their clearest-- the occasional tendril of mana that was curling up from below had a numbing effect on her mind, dulling the edges of her thoughts.

On top of that, there was something wrong with the wind. The air was so soft... and fuzzy...

In any case, any outsider who happened to be watching could have seen that she was less than cautious in her gathering.

Perhaps that's why she missed the mistweed that slipped into her basket with the wild leek.

xxxxx

He woke to the rich aroma of stew. She had a fire going, and a neat tripod held a pot she'd hidden somewhere in the packs, full of bubbling green liquid. She sat with one eye on it, drinking a bowlful down. As he watched, eyes half-lidded, she got another bowlful and downed it.

"Are you going to share?" he inquired, making her jump.

"Of course!" she said cheerily, eyes strangely dilated.

His brow crinkled. Something was amiss. He sat up and ladled himself a bowlful, lifting it to his lips. It smelled... off. "What is in this?"

She shrugged, the expression on her face bordering on maniacal, the smile far too cheerful to be real.

His hackles raised and he sat up to observe her more closely. She was swaying gently like a tall flower in the wind, except without the wind.

"I don't know, some green stuff and some other green stuff. And some dried fish, and rice."

His eyes widened incredulously. "You made a stew of strange plants and did not test it before consuming entire bowlfuls of it? I thought you claimed not to be stupid!"

She drew herself up unsteadily. "Hey, they looked just like the ones I used to cook with at home. They taste funny though." She giggled, and the _offness_ clicked into place.

"Of course they do," he grated, "this is _mistweed,_ youutter_ idiot_."

She cocked her head at him, and giggled again.

He clenched his fists, breathing very deeply in an attempt to stay calm. The little fool had managed to get herself intoxicated on a hallucinogenic plant without him noticing already, and the three days had hardly even begun yet. How could she be so...

_Oh_.

He noticed then, at last, the dusty scent of the air and spotted the tiny drifting fluffballs._ I suppose I cannot blame her when the damn plant is sporing. She would have inhaled them while picking already. No wonder she did not notice. _

She was swaying and singing quietly to herself in a pleasant clear alto now, alternating lines of song with gulps of soup.

"S'good," she slurred, eyes unfocused. "Mistweed, you say? Gotta remember that."

He snatched the bowl away, earning a muzzy protest from the drunken woman. "That's enough, you little idiot. Any more and you will faint."

She laughed like he'd said the funniest thing she'd ever heard and smacked his shoulder weakly. He fought the urge to knock her unconscious until the effects wore off.

Then suddenly, her laughter cut off with startling abruptness. "Do you like me?" she asked, face open and vulnerable. The question was sudden, and more serious than she had any right to be while full of mistweed soup.

He scratched around the corners of his brain for an answer, but as it turned out, he did not need one. All the talking would be on her side tonight, it seemed.

"I like you. I'm not sure why. I don't like demons anymore." She flung her arm out, clumsily smacking his shoulder. "All they do is hurt people. Why do you all want to hurt us humans? We liked you, in the beginning, I think."

She was rambling, but he let her talk, stunned to silence by her words. Izayoi's face was completely free of all barriers, open like a scroll just begging to be read. A scroll full of painful memories and awkward beliefs.

"He hurt me," she said, quietly.

"Who?" he choked out, throat closed. His fingers wanted to smooth away the jagged edges of her. He buried his claws in his palms, feeling the flesh part and bleed. The pain was very welcome.

"Ryuunomei-sama," she said matter-of-factly, as though it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

He flashed back to her nightmare, the shrieking agony and heart-wrenching wails. Perhaps he was at last about to learn the truth of that incident.

"Why?" he prodded gingerly.

Her eyes welled with shimmering firelit tears.

"I don't know!" she wailed, disconsolate and very, very drunk. "All my life," she gulped, "I served him faithfully. I was a good hostage, in the beginning, and then later, I Saw the visions for him and saved him so many times. Everything I had, I gave to him. Really and truly everything. I suppose," and she paused for a moment, wonderment in her eyes, "I loved him, a little... perhaps, more than just a little. He was my lord, I idolized him."

There was a light in her eyes that reminded him of Mai for a disorienting second, her unreasonable passion for things that did not deserve it.

"Then one day... he changed." She inhaled deeply, apparently searching for calm. It was elusive. Izayoi shook like an autumn leaf in a winter wind. "Why am I telling you this? I haven't told _anyone _this."

"I do not know."

"I should stop."

"If you wish." Truth be told, he was curious now about the 'change' in his ancient rival, but he would never, ever admit that to a human. Inferior or not. Thankfully, he did not have to. She continued.

"No... I want to talk about it now. It's far enough behind me now, and for some reason I trust you."

His eyebrow raised and he opened his mouth to rebuke her for her childish willingness to trust anyone and everyone, but then he paused. Was her trust truly misplaced? Somehow, he no longer felt that it was. Perhaps the slippery slope of feeling for her had not waited for his decision before shifting, until he fell helplessly into her hurt.

Her face was now drawn and hollowed as though all the softness had been melted away. She looked haunted.

"One day, he started calling me beautiful, like he did his wives, and touching my hair like it was precious to him. I loved him so, and so I was glad of his attention. For a long time, it continued like that, and I was more happy than I had ever been. He was so beautiful to me. I would have done anything he'd asked for just one of his smiles."

She smiled fondly, and he could almost see the hero-figure she saw Ryuunomei as reflected in her eyes. There was nothing dishonest about her. She truly would have done anything for him. What had changed?

Izayoi pulled her knees up to her chin and hugged her shins."But then... he started to touch me where he shouldn't. At first it looked like it was by accident, just coincidental brushes against my chest and such. I knew they were no mistake, though. But I loved him, so I said nothing. No one would have believe me anyways."

She sat before the fire, opposite him, and stared unblinkingly into the flames. "For years he did things like that, and I grew to like it less and less, but I grew accustomed and still said nothing. There was no tangible proof that he was doing anything wrong that I could show anyone. Even if I had, he was the strongest-- who would stand up to him? No one who valued their lives."

Her eyes deepened to fathomless black hollows, pulling him in. Half-unconsciously, he leaned forward in order to hear better.

"Then... he went too far. Much, much too far. He brought me back to his chambers and... did things. Things that hurt, things I didn't want. I begged and screamed but he ignored me and kept on hurting me. I couldn't decide what to think-- should I be grateful that my beloved lord was paying such attentions to me, as he did his wives, or was the disgust and horror I was feeling correct? The latter was too painful, so I decided on the former. I decided to view it as a privilege instead of a curse, in order to stay sane. When he was done, he told me to say nothing or he'd... he'd... kill my father."

She hunched around her knees and crumpled like abused rice paper. Tears poured down her ruined face, golden in the firelight.

Inutaisho sat cold and furious. He'd known of this side of his enemy, but had never met a living victim. It was far more difficult to accept when the results were right in front of his eyes, suffering.

"Afterwards, he'd sometimes call me back to his rooms and do the things again. The older I grew, the less gentle he was. At first, he just left bruises. They went away in a few days and did not bother me too much. Then he started leaving ones that stayed for weeks and turned ugly colours, and hurt if I touched them. Once, near the end, he broke my arm. I told my father I'd fallen."

Her hand unconsciously rubbed her left forearm in memory. He wanted to rub it too, offer comfort of some sort since there were no words.

"As the years went by, he called me less and less often, until I thought he'd forgotten me, and I was glad. Then, a year ago, he called me back after two years of never touching me. It was the worst time yet. He was angry about something, and took it out on me. When he was finished, I was a bleeding mess. He knew that nobody would believe me if I said I'd 'fallen,' and did not want to face disapproval from the people since dealing with that was inconvenient. So, he decided to get rid of me. He took advantage of the situation yet again and made me swallow the amulet, then took me far into the Western Lands. He left me there, alone and wounded, and told me never to come back if I valued my father's life."

She swallowed. "All he had to do was ask, and I would have given him all that he wanted. It hurt more than anything that he thought he had to threaten me to get what he wanted. He should have known I would never have rebelled against him." Her eyes closed. "He had me write a letter saying I'd eloped with my lover from the court. I had no lover." It was eerie, how the tears ran down in utter silence while she spoke with a perfectly even, unbroken voice.

"I spent the next nine months wandering the Western Lands, staying in one place after another as long as I could, until they discovered my mystical talents and drove me out, or a raid demolished whatever town I was in. That was when you found me." She looked up at him, eyes deep and too sorrowful for any mortal to bear. "I almost hoped you _would _kill me. But I never meant for the others to be harmed. I'm so glad you didn't take me up on the offer I implied." She looked away, ashamed. "I'm such a coward."

"No, you are not." He hadn't even realized he'd spoken until after the words hung in the air. "What was done to you is abominable. Ryuunomei is already a dead man walking, but I think I shall kill him a little extra for this." The force of his cold anger stunned him. She was only human. But somehow it was hard to remember that 'human' and 'youkai_' _meant different things when her eyes met his, diving as deeply as possible, perhaps looking for something to give her hope.

Whether or not she found it, he did not know, for in a twinkling the pain in her face vanished, locked away again in its dark little corner of her brain. A falsely bright expression pasted itself over her real one. "Sing for me!" she cried in a mockery of cheerfulness.

He only looked at her.

"Come on, I want to dance. Sing for me!"

He sat, silent and impassive.

When she saw that no song was forthcoming, she pursed her lips and stood up unsteadily. "Fine then. Be that way. I'll sing for myself." And sing she did, clear and tuneful despite her intoxication and the pain that still echoed around her. And as she sang, she danced.

The flickering firelight created the illusion that she wasn't remaining entirely within the form of her body, as though her spirit was flickering out beyond the borders of her flesh. The pain was in there, black and sinuous, but only served as a facet of the whole.

It was dizzying, and mesmerizing.

He watched.

Her arms floated like live things, undulating serpentine through the thick air of the cavern. Her legs, invisible beneath the night-black _hakama_, seemed to float, never quite touching the stone but always moving.

He watched.

The heavy curtain of sable silk that masqueraded as her hair seemed light as moonbeams as she spun, ebbing and flowing about her head in a midnight tide.

It did not seem strange to think her beautiful, not now. She was so graceful. It was only natural.

Her lashes lay thick and dark on her cheek as she danced blindly, dangerously close to the fire but always seeming to know where it was. It became a prop in the story her limbs were telling, a supporting player.

He watched, and the slippery slope was there again, waiting for his decision. Still he stood wavering. _Mai..._ _what about Mai... my love, beloved, Mai, Mai, Mai..._

Izayoi.

Time slowed and stopped for the dog lord as he began to understand.

At long last, he understood what his beloved mate had seen in the humans in her last few centuries. What she had seen that had made her defend them, fight for them, even love them. This was what she had seen-- that the light of life burned brighter in those whose lives were shorter.

This woman in green before him showed him, swaying motion by gentle smile, why humans were not inferior.

He looked at the slope again, and decided. The beckoning darkness would win its long battle with his ingrown code, the pathway he'd rutted himself into. But not yet. He would not step off yet. Not until... _not until..._ he wasn't sure what the breaking point would be, but now was not the time and so, he resisted.

_I will. I will remember truth, and pain. But not now._

Now, all he wanted was to watch Izayoi dance.

He watched her dance for hours. She was inexhaustible, at sharp odds with her earlier state of depletion. It was almost as if dancing rejuvenated her, and perhaps it did. The longer she danced, the more alive she seemed. Her gentle voice grew stronger and clearer, pure and haunting as its dance within a dance curled in his ears. Time seemed a silly thing, a mortal invention that meant little and affected less. In the small cave above the dying castle, she danced in the firelight forever.

And when her dance was done, she laid next to him and it was all perfectly all right. He fell asleep with her filling the hollow in his side, and she slept with a hollow to sleep in.

There were no more decisions that night.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	10. Queen of Hearts

**A/N: **Enjoy!

.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter X: Crumbling Treasure**_

**xxxxx**

_If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country. -Edward M. Forster_

If she could have torn the cruel sun from the sky, she would have. It tore through her flimsy, redveined eyelids, lancing into her brain like tiny spears. It seemed unfair somehow that she should feel this way, but she wasn't quite sure why. It must have been something in the soup... _the soup._

_Oh shit. _

_I'm hungover, _she realized incredulously. _That bloody green stuff..._ The smell and taste of the bilious weed filled her nose and mouth and her stomach heaved without warning. Blindly, she threw herself towards the sunlight, praying that she was heading in the right direction. She could hear the stone walls passing by her head with suddenly super-sensitive ears.

She would have missed the mouth of the cave by a few feet, but for a pair of very strong helpful hands, which caught her gently and redirected her.

"Oh gods," she whispered, feeling as though she'd been sat on by a dragon. "Kill me now."

"That's the second time you have asked me to do that," a very deep voice said behind her, sounding more amused than it had any right to be.

_Inutaisho, _her helpful mind supplied. "Unnngggghhh," she replied articulately, to his continued amusement.

"That will teach you to cook with strange plants," he said with a deeply irritating air of condescension.

She wanted to hit him, but was afraid that if she moved she'd break. Her memory was very hazy regarding the night before. She remembered firelight, and golden eyes, and hushed speech, but little else.

_What would father think?_ her horrified mind wailed. _Mother? _

She had never, _ever _been drunk before. A sheltered hostage, she'd been cosseted and cared for like a priceless doll-- nobody had ever let her anywhere near alcohol or any other intoxicating substances. Such as mistweed. Her rebellious stomach twisted.

Yet another horrifying thought occurred to her then. She may have never touched the stuff herself, but her memories were full of courtiers merrily sloshed and singing from rooftops, or proclaiming their everlasting love to the barmaid whose name they couldn't recall. Vividly she recalled the first time Akira had ever gotten drunk.

OoooooooO

_"Can you fly?" he asked suddenly. There was a glint his eye that spoke of mischievous madness. _

_"Of course not! I'm human!" _

_The cougar boy alarmingly chose to ignore that and swept her up, leaping for the roofs with her shrieking form in tow. _

_"I think you can. I can! Why shouldn't you be able to, too?" _

_He meant it, she realized with horror. He really meant to throw her off, teach her to fly the hard way. Real terror filled her veins._

_"Aki-chan! I can't fly! If you throw me off there, I'll fall and die!" _

_They landed, perched precariously on the lacquered red roof edge high above the courtyard. He stank of sake more with every breath._

_He paused, uncertain now. "Really? Why?"_

_"I don't know!" she wailed, panicked. The courtyard floor spiraled dizzily beneath her, impossibly far. In her mind spun visions of the long, helpless descent and the bone-splitting crunch of the landing. She wanted to vomit. "That's just the way it is! Please, Aki, I'm afraid. Don't!" _

_He looked down into her pleading, teary eyes. His face crumpled alarmingly._

_"I'm sorry, Iza-chan. I won't if you don't want me to. I don't ever want to hurt you." _

_She gasped with relief and flung her arms around his neck, whispering her thanks over and over again in his ear. Her whole body trembled. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his golden face in her hair, inhaling deeply. It was a warm night._

_He stilled, then, and something in his stance changed. Inexplicably, she felt a new apprehension rising in her breast. _

_"I always loved your hair," he murmured, then pushed her back just far enough to reach her face. "So beautiful..." He was almost unintelligible. His sake-laden lips lowered wantonly to hers. _

_She froze. _

_Akira was her best friend, and she loved him a lot... but this was never the direction she'd seen their relationship going. He was very warm and big, wrapped around her, and she supposed it was not unpleasant, but... this was not what she wanted. Not with him._

_They were still teetering on the rooftop, and Aki's balance was getting steadily worse. With all the strength she could muster, she tore her lips away. "Aki! Please, let me down. It's so high up." _

_And then, she shrieked as he seemed to just topple and plummet towards the courtyard, her rigid body still wrapped in his arms.They fell forever, it seemed, and she kept expecting her life to flash before her eyes. But it seemed he was still conscious, thankfully, and at the very last second he righted himself and they landed right-side up, though none too gently. _

_"Better?" he breathed. _

_His breath was making her dizzy. He was acting so strangely! Was this 'drunk?' If it was, Izayoi didn't like it at all. She nodded and pushed him away wordlessly, fleeing his swaying form until he was left far behind, still standing arms akimbo, wondering where she'd gone._

OooooooooO

"What happened?" Horrific images of her throwing herself at him with stars in her eyes swam through her muzzy head. He was excrucuatingly silent. "What did I say? Shit!What did I _do_?"

He took pity on her.

"Nothing embarrassing," he reassured her. "You danced, and sang, and told me stories."

She stiffened, the images of wanton lust disappearing in favour of images of graphic depictions of the horrors of her youth. In her agonized mind, she saw his repulsed expressions and heard his disgusted words. It wasn't fair, of course it wasn't, but that was the way the world worked. Honour was the catchphrase of the day, and if he knew that what little she'd had was lost to the grasping fingers of her liege lord... whatever hard earned respect she'd won from his stone facade would vanish forever.

"What stories?" Her head lifted like it was made of lead and she looked him square in the eye. "What did I tell you?" Apprehensively she searched for a hint of aloofness, a smidgeon of revulsion, that would tell her what she needed to know. But no- his eyes were calm, soft and honeygold. She relaxed, the relief almost painful. No daiyoukai would ever be able to look at a human woman with eyes like that if he knew that she was the plaything of his enemy, a toy he'd used and thrown away when she broke.

She leaned back, letting the easing of her fear wash over her in warm salty waves. She was safe. For now. A small smile twitched the small muscles of her face. For a few golden moments, everything was right with her world. Her secret was safely hidden in its cozy little cranny in the darkened back attics of her brain, and no one was the wiser.

However, daiyoukai were not very good at stability. Voice utterly neutral, eyes still soft, he casually shattered the illusion she'd been clinging to. Like saying that that grass was green, or daiyoukai troublesome.

"You told me what my enemy did to you," he said, blunt as a rock.

There was no way to finesse that that would make it hurt less, so she supposed it made sense to just be clear and concise. Logically it made sense. But she was a woman, and women were not good at logic. Women were good at feeling.

And so she felt. She felt a _lot_. Shame, mostly. She looked at him and saw her sordid past reflected in his eyes. Why, _why _wasn't his expression conforming to her expectations? The disgust she could handle, she'd _practiced _dealing with that. Countless times, she'd played scenes in her mind where people discovered the truth and confronted her. She had a _speech_, damn it! But this studied neutrality, this indifference... there was nothing in her library of imagined scenes that covered that. So she curled up and started to cry.

"Why do you weep?"

His voice was so gentle. Almost as if... he wasn't... but she knew the truth of that. No matter how well he hid it, she knew that underneath he was just as repulsed by what she'd allowed to be done to her, without protest. Just like all the others. Why had she ever wanted to think that he might be different? Her voice spilled out of her like vomit, sour and bilious.

"You must be so disgusted," she sobbed. "I was his _plaything_. And I didn't have the courage to do anything about it. I just... let him. I'm so ashamed!" She gathered herself and stumbled from the cave into the harsh sunlight. She reached out, for once not needing her crystal in the magic-saturated air, and found a hot spring near the castle. She felt dirty. Low. The water called to her, promising clean skin... if not a clean soul.

xxxxx

He wrestled with himself. To follow her or not to follow her? She was distraught, and he had no experience handling distraught women. But if he didn't... they were in enemy territory. Her safety was not guaranteed alone and defenseless. Looking over, he confirmed that she had not even taken her dagger. It was settled then-- he was following.

The one-sided conversation that had just abruptly ended played through his mind, driving him quietly mad._ Didn't have the courage... must be so disgusted... _was that truly how she thought? Had she honestly expected herself to be able to retaliate with her father's imminent death hanging over her head? Ryuunomei was a daiyoukai, second only to himself in power. She was a human girl. There was no comparison, and it was utterly ridiculous to think that there was anything she could have done. But he could see that convincing her of that would be next to impossible. A task for another day, he decided, unwilling to face down the enormous job today. But face it he would, eventually. No ally of his would be permitted to entertain such foolish notions if he could help it.

Her trail was easy to follow- she blundered through the brush with none of her customary grace, leaving a trail of broken twigs and crushed foliage a child could have followed. His footprints obliterated only every second print of hers, his stride was so much longer. Up ahead, he could hear her heavy, sorrow-laden breaths sucking in and out. It was truly amazing, how much suffering she put herself through over something that was not her fault. It made no sense to him... but then she was human, and a woman to boot.

He caught up to her at the hot spring. It was a hollow in the mountainside, like a round scoop cored out of the stone and filled with water halfway. The low point of the bowl had a square chunk cut out to serve as an entrance, while the higher end towered over the spring like a makeshift roof. As he strode in, she was easy to spot. The image engraved itself his spirit and remained there unweathered for the rest of his days.

Like a marble statue in a palace garden pool, she stood motionless in the center of the spring under the strangely silver-misted sunlight, still fully clothed, her hair spreading around her like a dark halo at chest height. She was so pale, her marble features upturned towards the light, tears streaking silver-bright down her cheeks. The water was perfectly still, and her upper body was reflected in the water so that she seemed not to be human, but like an image of a queen on a playing card, two torsos mirroring each other... totally still. Steam rose off the water and fastened like like miniscule diamonds in her hair. In that moment, she did not seem to be completely real, and he deliriously wondered for a moment if she was a spirit of some sort. But then the illusion broke, before the thought could even fully form, when she sniffled and the water rippled away from her in racing loops and whorls.

"Woman..."

She whirled to face him, features inhuman with crystalline agony. They held the vibrating connection of eyes, impassive and golden and waterdark and accusing, for an endless green second. Then her face folded, and she surrendered to the racking sobs that shook her.

"That's right... 'woman!'" she shrieked. "I'm not a person, I'm just a member of the female sex, there for using and _toying_ with. Have you too come to ravish me, my _lord_?"

Her wide, mocking eyes turned to him, and he suddenly felt inexusably cheap and common for refusing to call her by name. But her name was so... forbidden. Its very syllables sounded like caresses, and he could not bring himself to let them touch his tongue. Was he afraid she would hear something that wasn't there? Or afraid she would hear something that was, and shouldn't be? An unanswerable question.

She whirled away from him, hair floating on the water in a spreading fan of darkness. "Apparently that's all I'm good for."

His heart stretched out of its long sleep, and the motion hurt. He felt obliged to say something. Anything. The pain before him was so transcendent, so divine and untouchable, that he was afraid to step wrong. "No..." he started, hoping that the word was going somewhere helpful, but she shook her head violently before he could continue.

"Don't bother trying to deny it. I understand now. It's all right." Her back straightened, became rigid and fossilized. Brittle. "If that is my purpose... so be it. Do what you will."

By all the gods, but she sounded so defeated. Defeat and her voice did not belong together, he decided. Even if she was a human, she was going to be spending a lot of time at his side, and so he could bow to his own wishes to _not_ be driven mad in less than a fortnight by her lugubrious attitude. This was an acceptable reason to make a human happy. There were very few, in his book.

"You are valuable to me," he admitted, not realizing it was an admission until he'd said it. But admission it was. He'd meant to say it to snap her out of her funk, but instead he'd meant it. And he couldn't decide whether that was a bad thing or not.

"Am I?" The question was so soft he almost missed it even with his demon hearing. "Why?"

And that was the crux of it. He stood at the crossroads. He could either tell her the truth, that she was valuable first for her abilities and second simply because she was on his side, but he knew that was not he answer she was looking for. Or, he could tell her a pleasing lie that would make her happy, if she bought it. 'If' being the operative word. She was very perceptive, he doubted she would. So what to do? Tell the painful truth or the pleasing lie?

Once again, she took away the choice.

"Never mind. I don't want you to lie to me. If it's only for political reasons, I understand." She turned and walked out of the water right past him, pausing just past his shoulder. "Thanks for saying it though."

And then she was walking into a cave he hadn't seen in the curving rock wall. He could hear her shedding her grimy clothes, and made himself turn away and walk off. But he only went a very short ways away before remembering that he couldn't leave her alone in enemy territory. So he retraced his steps and stationed himself outside the entrance to the little stone hollow. If there had been anyone in the dead forest to see, they might have marveled at the sight of the great Lord of the West guarding the pool where an ordinary human woman bathed. But there was no one to see.

He heard her emerge and enter the water slowly, exhaling deeply at the feel of the warm water on her skin. Then he heard her suck in a breath, most likely in pain. _Her bruises_, he remembered. Washing herself had to be painful. She gasped, and he guessed that she had reached her midriff, and the great yellow-black bruise he knew had to be there. He winced in sympathy. And then... he smelled the salt of her tears, and knew where she had to be now. It was affecting him more than he thought wise, but there was little he could do to change that. It was clear now that whatever indifference he had once possessed belonged to Sesshoumaru, now. Whether or not it was prudent, her pain affected him, and brought with it another new emotion-- guilt. It was his fault that she was hurting. If he'd spared even half a thought, he would _never _have thrown her out into the hallway alone and vulnerable to the imbecilic, honourless scum that populated his domicile. But it was too late now, and so he sat and guarded her and learned what it was to feel guilt, and regret.

A sharp, bitten-back cry echoed in the small bowl and he winced in sympathy. He wondered if she wanted help. She had to be sore, and reaching some of the more remote places on her back would be difficult right now. But he knew that the timing could not be worse, and so he did nothing but sit outside and keep her safe. When at last she emerged, smelling clean and wonderful once again, he merely led the way wordlessly back to the cave.

xxxxx

"May I speak to you?" she asked, almost timid. They had been sitting, silent and uncomfortable, in the cave for the past three hours.

He'd wondered when she would break. Humans never could stand silence. He nodded, mute permission. Even so, she did not speak for another ten minutes.

Finally..."What do you think of me, now that you know?"

He wanted to roll his eyes. Of all the pointless, needlessly painful questions... "Why do you wish to know?" Ah, an old interrogation classic- answer a question with another question.

"Because your opinion matters to me. I don't know why," she answered, unexpectedly candid.

_Damn. I suppose the technique will not work then. _He resigned himself to the massively unpleasant conversation he knew was coming. "For a human, you are tolerable," he said honestly. Be _damned _if she was getting any more than that out of him.

She snorted with laughter. "'Tolerable.' How very like you. Ah well, I guess that's a sort of compliment, coming from you." A smile twitched the corners of his mouth. "But that's not what I meant."

He froze. She was going to ask for the even more uncomfortable answer, and it was beyond him why she would even want it.

"I mean, how do you see me now that you know what I've allowed to be done to me?"

He grimaced. It was time for honesty, and for once he did not feel like being blunt. She waited, expectant and high-strung with nervousness. How could he put it without sounding like an utter sap? _If you were a demon I would admire you..._ she would kick him for the slight to her species. _My wife would have liked you..._ passable, but not an answer to the question. What _did _he think of her? Mentally he reviewed the situation.

_One: she was young, vulnerable, and a hostage for her father's honest dealings. Two: she was raised in his household, so he had ample opportunity to manipulate her. Three: his power to hers is as leaf to tree, candle to sun... there is no comparison. I am... ashamed for my species, that one of us could stoop so low, even if he is a dragon. _Still, nothing intelligent came to mind. She visibly withered at his continued silence. Grimacing, he bit the sword and spoke the truth.

"You did nothing wrong. What he did was honourless and low, and I recognize that there was nothing you could have done." Salt on the air, again. Would she never be done with weeping? He inhaled deeply, bracing for what was to come. "Furthermore... I find that I have some respect for how you endured in order to save your father. You acted... honourably. More so than Ryunomei."

She stared at him, wide-eyed and uncomprehending. "You mean... you don't think I'm disgusting?" The hope in her eyes was too bright to look at, so he looked at the dry, root-knotted ceiling instead.

"No. On the contrary, despite being human I almost admire you." There. He'd said it. _Now please, leave it alone?_ When she said nothing, he was childishly grateful.

Long minutes later, when she'd apparently absorbed it, she sucked in a shaky half-breath. "Only almost?" she laughed, breath rattling with leftover tears.

He smiled. "Only almost."

"It's a start."

His eyebrow raised of its own volition. "Coming from me, that is high praise. You should be thankful for what you can get."

"I am," she said soberly. "But that's not to stop me from aiming higher yet, is it?"

Somehow, the prospect did not seem as onerous as it might.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	11. Return to Blood

**A/N: **Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XI: Return to Blood**_

**xxxxx**

_Dying is a very dull, dreary affair, and my advice to you is to have nothing to do with it._

Somerset Maugham

For the thousandth time that hour, Inutaisho thanked all the gods, spirits, and miscellaneous spiritual entities he could think of that none of his court were there to see his humiliation. If anybody _was_ here to see this, he would have either honourably killed himself or, more likely, gone on a massive gore-stained rampage to eliminate everybody who might ever possibly find out. The reigning overlord of a full fourth of Japan, Taiyoukai of the West, the great, powerful and fearsome Inutaisho, was getting his hair done.

"But I'm so _bored_," she'd whined, in that pleading voice, accompanied by those limpid wood-black eyes which begged so _appealingly_... Truth be told, he'd been just a little bit bored too, and the feel of little hands in his hair, tugging on his scalp, was very pleasant. He'd used to love it when Mai touched his hair, and if he closed his eyes and pretended just a little it was easy to feel her hands instead of this black-haired not-her's.

"It's so _soft,_" she marveled, stroking from his temples downwards. He had to struggle not to growl in pleasure. Some times the dog blood was a little stronger than usual, and something about being petted brought it out to the surface. He felt the inexplicable urge to wag his tail. Which, of course, he didn't have in human form.

_Ugh. Thank all the gods no one's here_, he thought yet again.

But by heaven, it felt so wonderful. His eyes fluttered and rolled back into his head and he shivered.

"Thanks for letting me do this," she commented. "I love your hair. It's almost as long as mine. I don't know anybody with hair as long as mine. Do all inuyoukai have such long hair? I've only ever seen you. Do other inuyoukai look like you? What does your son look like?" He suspected she was chattering to take her mind off the painful conversation of the night before, but her voice was not unpleasant so he made no move to correct her. Neither did he answer her.

Since last night, he'd come to an uneasy peace with himself. The conflict was still there; she was still human so it would _always _be there. And he was still youkai. He did not love her, but after finding his attraction to her too powerful to simply excise, he'd decided to let it be. It was there, yes. But he would not indulge it. He had more honour than that. So he sat seizaon a cave floor above a dying castle with a beautiful woman stroking him. There were worse ways to spend three days. He sat and wanted very much to touch her, mark her as his own. Wanted, observed the want, and refused himself. The gulf was too wide, Mai's death still too recent.

She was human, he was youkai, and that was all there was to it. End of story.

Her hands felt indescribable tangled in his moonwhite hair. He simultaneously wished that she'd stop before the wanting became too much, and that she'd never, ever stop.

As it turned out, fate was kind to him. He smelled the youki on the wind only moments before he heard them. Instantly on battle footing, he lunged to his feet and drew his longsword. Izayoi, startled, flew backwards and landed uncomfortably splay-legged on the stone. He'd already forgotten about her, lost in instinctual focus. A party of youkai, Southern. About thirty of them. His grip tightened on the leather-wrapped hilt and he stole towards the cave entrance, peering around the corner stealthily. Now he had visual confirmation of what his ears had told him.

_Damn_.

"Get back," he absently warned Izayoi. She nodded, no stranger to battle, and silently padded to the back of the cave.

The youkai were directly beneath the stone ledge that jutted out from the cave entrance. He crouched above them, loose hair stirring in the damp wind. A battle wind, warm as blood. Silent, he leapt from the ledge and fell among them, death in red and black. His right hand wielded the length of the sword expertly, no movement wasted as it flickered through skin and muscle, bone and cartilage. His left hand, glowing with noisome green, left poison wherever it alighted.

Before he had time to inhale again, eleven of them were dead. The rest were stunned, unable to process the black streak that was felling them three to an eyeblink.

Ah, death. It was such a comfortable place for him. This, he knew. Human women with beautiful eyes and entrancing smiles may be confusing, and court politics may be mystifying, but blood and slaughter were always simple. There was something so deeply primal and basic about ripping something's throat out that required no thought or explanation. This was what he was designed for. Turn, duck, slice. Leap, parry, stab. Nothing confounding or difficult to understand in the language of blood.

There were five left when the clever knife found him. The tiny rat youkai he had thought to be dead stood behind him, last breath soughing from its lungs as it pushed the long blade deeper between Inutaisho's ribs. He howled in agony, knowing the keen tip had found his heart. As it fell, the rat dragged the knife along his rib scrapingly, opening a gaping wound in the side of his chest. A flicker of fear skittered through Inutaisho. The wound alone would not kill him, but he could feel his blood leaking out at an alarming rate, weakening him. He faltered. The attacking youkai grinned and redoubled their attack.

Four left. Mustering his strength, he killed another, claws thrust up through the soft throat into the braincase, squelching sickeningly. Too slow, too slow! How had the youkai gotten so fast? _Not fast, _he realized, feeling his strength drain away. _I am slowing. _Another knife found its mark in his upper thigh, cutting deeply and severing the artery. He could not even kill the offending youkai- it seemed impossibly fast to his dimming eyes. It would take long days to recover from these wounds. If he survived. It seemed unthinkable to lose to a bunch of low level soldier demons, but all it took was one lucky hit and even a great demon such as himself could be taken down if enough were left alive to finish the job.

There were still three left, all unharmed, and his legs were beginning to shake. There was so much blood, and far too much of it his. The situation had become dire. He wished he'd transformed to his great dog form before the battle. The trees would have made it extremely difficult to move, however- though tiny to his transformed self, they were like stepping on nails. Very painful, and slowing. Too late now, in any case. He began to consider the possibility that he was going to die.

_I am coming, my love, _ he thought. _Sesshoumaru._ His son would grow up fatherless. Inutaisho wondered if the boy had the strength of spirit to keep the court in line after his death. He hoped so. His son was dear to him, despite his cold soul and indifferent attitude. Mentally, he apologized.

He began to compose his death poem as his vision began to go black. _The woman._ It did not matter, he realized, who he had to protect. His body was betraying him-- no matter his fortitude or strength of will, he could not remain conscious. The last thing he saw was the leering face of a lizard youkai leaning over his kneeling form, sword jagged and filthy.

_I am sorry, my son._

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru glared murderously at the courtier before him. When he'd gotten word of his father's unexpected, unnannounced departure, he'd rushed immediately home from the summer palace, where he'd been keeping order as practice. He was still young, not quite mature, a mere three hundred years old. But he was uncommonly intelligent, and had a special glare that had the effect of instantly withering anyone he turned it on. Except for women, who seemed to think it was attractive. The courtier was not a woman, and consequently was nearing wetting himself as Sesshoumaru fixed the infamous stare on his trembling form.

"Am I to understand," he snarled, low and lethal, "that you imbeciles have taken the departure of my father to be cause for celebration?"

The youkai, who was acting manager of the palace in Inutaisho's absence, let out a keening sound that Sesshoumaru conveniently interpreted as a 'yes.'

"I should give you the death of a thousand cuts for your insolence," he breathed. "What is this? How _dare _you disrespect my father so?"

All around them, the drunken revelry continued unabated. He had not yet been noticed. The compound was in a shambles, detritus of the celebration lying about everywhere without a maid in sight.

"Tell me," he asked, almost conversationally, turning his side to the violently terrified manager, "what was the reason for this..." his face wrinkled distastefully "ridiculous and humiliating behaviour?"

"My lord.. please... forgive me!"

One cold golden eye turned in his head to regard the youkai. "Answer the question."

"My lord... in the last few years, Inutaisho has permitted these celebrations periodically. To keep up morale."

Sesshoumaru's eyebrow raised incredulously. "This... disgusting excess... was_ permitted_? My father must have taken my mother's death harder than I thought." He looked around. "I want everything returned to order by tomorrow morning. Am I making myself clear?"

The demon nodded with his whole body, creating the unfortunate appearance of having a seizure. "Yes milord! Absolutely!"

"Good. Get out."

"Yes milord!" The youkai fairly fled, running into the shoji and nearly tearing it out of its groove on his way out.

Sesshoumaru sighed. "Why does my father surround himself with such idiots?" he wondered out loud. "It's disgraceful." He settled back into the cushions, the hair he inherited from his father pooling over the brocaded silk. The castle would be back under control by the next day. Sesshoumaru liked to run a tight ship, liked it when things were clean, efficient, and orderly. Give him two days, and the proper respect would also be restored. He sighed. Why had his father allowed things to become so lax? The job before his son was formidable.

xxxxx

His son was still on his mind when Inutaisho awoke, like the last thought had waited for his consciousness to catch up before finishing. Then he became aware of an extraordinary, utterly unexplainable fact.

He was still alive. How? Why? Or perhaps he was dead, after all, and the Buddhists were simply wrong about samsara_, _the wheel of eternal death and rebirth. Perhaps death really was just a formless blackness, truly empty and endless.

But nothingness did not have pain, and he could still clearly feel the dull, angry pain of his wounds in his chest and leg. Since spirits did not have chests or legs, or pain at all, he felt safe assuming he was alive. And nothingness did not have the smell of wildflowers or the sound of even, exhausted breathing. He discovered he still had eyes, and opened them.

Across his midriff lay Izayoi, covered in blood and sleeping the dreamless sleep of the truly drained. Her haori was in shreds. A moment later, he discovered the reason for that-- the missing strips were tightly bound around his wounds. They were in the cave, on the furs. Somehow. The puzzle grew larger yet. He was alive, and so was she. An enormous mystery on its own. And they were in the cave, neatly bandaged and sleeping. How_...? _

She stirred, rolling in her sleep to rest her head on his wounded chest. He yowled and rocketed to his feet, immediately regretting it as his thin blood rushed to his head and the world tipped sideways. The impact with the cave floor hurt very much, and so he lay there for a few moments quietly trying not to scream. Izayoi was now awake, and shrieking fit to wake the dead. _Perhaps I died after all, but then she screamed like that? _he thought dizzily.

She stopped shrieking, apparently having assessed the situation and calmed down. He sat up and looked at her reproachfully. They stared at each other for a second, and then she burst into messy tears and flung herself at him, careful to avoid his wounds. "You're awake!" she cried into his shoulder. "Thank the gods!"

Eyes wide, he frantically tried to decide what to do. "Ah..."

"Sorry!" She pulled back instantly, looking mortified. "I'm sorry. I was just so glad to see you alive. I wasn't sure..."

He waved her off. "No need to apologize. What happened?"

"Well..."

xxxxx

_She saw the knife reach its mark, her cry of warning too soft to pierce the cacophony of battle. He staggered, howling inhumanly. It took only a moment to realize what the probable outcome would be from there. So Izayoi found her courage, ran back into the cave, and got her bow._

_Her first arrow took the youkai through the throat, and it dropped without a sound. Their heads snapped up and espied her. Fear beat its wings behind her ribs, but she held firm and drew the next arrow. It missed, only catching the snarling demon in the leg. It slowed it, though, which was probably the only thing that saved her. The final youkai passed the limping second, bounding up to the ledge and leaping for her throat. Beyond fear, beyond screaming, she drew her dagger and desperately held it before her. The airborne youkai bore down on her and she shut her eyes, death looming large as the youkai's shadow._

_Then it was dead, her knife buried in its heart. Somehow. The last youkai, the wounded one, finally made it up to the ledge and snarled at her. From the depths of her fear, a miracle blossomed. _

_Anger. _

_It burgeoned from deep within her, washing away the fear like driftwood on the tide. She gritted her teeth and glared at the very suprised demon._

_She picked up her bow again and smoothly drew an arrow. "Die, you stinking bastard," she snapped, and fired. It went in cleanly through the eye, and the demon dropped like a stone, to her immense gratification. "Hah! I showed _you!_" she cried, elated and adrenaline-high. _

_A moan from below brought her back to reality. "Inutaisho!"_

xxxxx

"Do you have any idea how heavy you are?" she asked. "And before you say it, you're welcome."

He had indeed been about to open his mouth to thank her for saving his life, and felt somewhat disgruntled at being so forstalled.

"You weigh a _lot_," she informed him. "It took me an hour to drag you up here out of the rain. You owe me one."

He raised an eyebrow. "Owe you one?" he echoed.

She nodded. "That's twice now I've saved your life," she reminded him.

"Twice?" This time was fairly obvious, but he could not remember another. "And would that not make us even, since I spared you when we first met and saved you later?"

Her disgruntled look told him that she had been hoping he wouldn't remember that. Suddenly, however, her expression brightened again. "But you were compelled by magic, so it doesn't count," she reasoned. "It was really the spellcaster protecting me, not you. So you still owe me."

"I do not recall a second time. When did you save me before?

"In your palace. If I hadn't gotten there when I did, the traitor would have made his move and you would be dead. That was the other part of my vision."

He stared at her. So... he had not only the safety of his kingdom to thank her for, but apparently his life. Twice now. It was a strange feeling, being indebted. Especially to a human. "Why did you not tell me of this?" he asked, struggling with it.

"Well, because I got there in time to prevent it. Since it didn't happen and wasn't going to, I didn't see any need to inform you."

It made a twisted sort of sense. He chalked it up to her being a woman and let it go. "So I ... owe you one. What exactly does that entail?"

She rocked back on her heels and laid a finger on her full lips. "Hmm. I suppose it means that if I ever get in a life-threatening situation, it would be honourable to save me." A wicked smile spread across her face. "Alternately, you could just owe me an undefined favour at a time of my choosing."

His eyebrow rose, mind wandering uselessly into realms of imagination. 'Favour' had many meanings, but his mind seemed very fond of one in particular. And besides, the 'favour' would be on her side, not his, so he would have to save her life several times to earn such a...

_Stop! Idiot! _

"Hrrrmmmm," he grunted, hoping it sounded noncommittal enough.

Apparently it was, for she dropped the train of thought and lay down on the furs, squirming until she was comfortable, face a scant foot from his. "If this is only the second day, what's tomorrow going to be like?" she mused.

He didn't want to know. So, he lay down and dove into sleep to escape the wild scenarios his helpful mind was now conjuring of flying gore and bare skin. _Sleep! Now! _he thought frantically, and was pathetically grateful when the blackness swallowed him.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Even on third edit I still love the image of Izayoi defending him from the demons. Fanart for this by **VegaSailor** can be found on my profile page.

Thanks for reading!


	12. Miko and Monarch

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!

Aforementioned original characters start showing up from this point onwards. Consider yourself twice-warned.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XII: Miko and Monarch**_

**xxxxx**

_A true friend stabs you in the front._

Oscar Wilde

Despite their fears, the final day went by quickly and amicably, free of blood, guts, green stuff, or heart to heart discussions. They had a quiet breakfast, took turns having quiet baths, bantered cheerfully back and forth, and did other random things to keep themselves occupied until late afternoon, when Jaken returned. Had they been a few minutes earlier, they would have found Inutaisho patiently teaching Izayoi to whittle animals out of wood. She'd tried to teach him earlier how to dance, but due to his lack of enthusiasm, that had gone not nearly so well.

The sun was beginning to set when the tiny form of Ah-Un appeared on the horizon, carrying Jaken and presumably, the miko. Izayoi and Inutaisho hurriedly tidied the cave and waited for them on the ledge.

Izayoi was suprised, when they landed, at how young the miko was. She'd heard a lot about Naruka's power, but had no real idea what she was like.

As it turned out, she was lovely. Her build was similar to Izayoi's, slender, strong, and delicately flexible. Blue veins showed through faintly on her transluscent skin, so pale was she, and her lips were very red. She wore the traditional garb of a priestess, a white haori and red hakama_, _and they complemented her face and contrasted with her black hair.

Izayoi instantly hated her, without rhyme or reason.

"Naruka-sama," Izayoi greeted, bowing deeply. Inutaisho echoed her.

Then, to her great shock, the beautiful priestess smiled widely and enveloped Inutaisho in a warm, and-- to Izayoi, rather licentious-- embrace. "So nice to see you!" she breathed into his ear.

Izayoi's brain shut down. _Oh look... butterflies..._ she noted intelligently. _How pretty. Like the incredibly forward priestess currently shoving her chest in Inutaisho's face. _She realized with astonishment that she was jealous, really and truly. Very much. _Why? I don't even want him! Well... that's only half true but I certainly had no intention of pursuing him! _She argued futilely with her mind, failing to make any headway against the irrational urge to push the lovely lady Naruka off a cliff.

"I am glad to see you well, Naruka-chan," he said, a smile on his face.

Izayoi's eye began to twitch, entirely against her will. Naruka-_chan_?

"'Taisho-sama, I haven't seen you in for_ever_," she squealed. "I was so surprised when this toad-thing told me it was you who was summoning me! What can I help you with?"

'_Taisho-sama?! _Izayoi's mind howled, incredulous.

"Sakenmaru is down in the castle under a binding spell. I need you to break it," Inutaisho told her, giving no indication of being disturbed by her familiar way of addressing him.

Naruka smiled brightly, making her glow becomingly.

Izayoi wondered if her skin was turning green yet. How was it possible to hate someone so much after knowing them for all of fifteen seconds? It was childish, immature, and completely uncalled for, and... _gods, what I wouldn't give for five minutes alone with her..._

"Sure thing, 'Taisho-sama! Lead the way!"

Immediately, Inutaisho set off down the mountainside with the petite miko clinging to his arm. Izayoi cracked her knuckles, took a deep breath, and followed. Obviously there was history here that she knew nothing of, and so she struggled desperately not to speak lest she snipe at them both and become thoroughly unpleasant company. Ahead of her, they chatted amiably and easily like old friends. Izayoi's teeth ground together in her mouth, and there was nothing she could do to stop them.

It felt like an eternity before they reached the castle gates, and by then the woman's voice was beginning to sound like claws on shalestone. Izayoi's nails were buried painfully in her palms.

Finally, to her relief, the little idiot shut up.

_Ah. She's seen the servants._

"Oh, gods_," _Naruka whispered, all traces of the bubbleheaded idiot of two seconds ago completely gone. "What is this? Who is responsible for this atrocity?"

Izayoi tried not to stare and failed. Who was this calm, competent, sad-eyed woman, and where had she come from? And where was the insufferable twit of a moments ago?

Gone.

"I do not know," Inutaisho replied gravely. "I was hoping you might be able to help with that."

The respect in his voice was not veiled. Izayoi became very curious indeed as to what their past together was. It was exceedingly strange to see a taiyoukai quiet and... almost _deferential_, especially to a human woman. There was something deeper here than what she was seeing, so with a great effort she locked away her inexplicable envy and listened carefully.

When they got to the throne room, they were forced to pause a moment while Naruka vomited wretchedly in a corner. Inutaisho held her hair back, sparking yet another wave of helpless vitriolic envy in Izayoi.

"This is an abomination," the horribly beautiful woman spat finally, looking quite green. "They must be stopped." She swallowed convulsively, looking as though she might vomit again. Inutaisho wrapped her in his arms protectively, and Izayoi's stomach lurched sickly.

But then, with little warning, the miko pushed him away purposefully. Her aura exploded into pale violet flames and she stalked up to the decaying figure on the throne in a dozen long strides. "My lord Sakenmaru!" she cried, power raging through her voice like water through mountain rapids. Her spine arched, hands extended to the side, energy crackling between every available gap in her limbs. The light was blinding, beyond lilac and verging on white now.

Izayoi closed her eyes, trembling at the sheer amount of power the miko was unleashing. Suddenly she felt small and useless in her own paltry abilities. She was a candle, and this was the sun. She could never compare to this. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wasn't sure why.

The air in the room was vibrating, almost drowning out the sound of the _miko_'s ululating wail of ecstatic agony. There was a small forever contained within those long seconds of brightness and sound, before it abruptly winked out, leaving everything shadowed and subdued in its wake. "I can't," she sobbed, shaking with the effort. "It's too strong, I can't break it. I'm so sorry."

Izayoi's eyes widened. All that, and the binding still held? She looked at the pathetic figure on the throne, looked at Inutaisho's shocked and desperate face, and made a decision. She closed her eyes.

"I'll help you," she said quietly. "Borrow my strength."

The _miko_'s gaze snapped to her, taken aback. "But you don't like me!"

Izayoi winced. "...You knew?"

The priestess nodded wearily. "I have some talent for reading emotions. I do not intrude, but you were projecting quite strongly."

Izayoi blushed. "Sorry. It's... hard to explain."

The priestess cocked an eyebrow and smiled at her condescendingly. "Not really, love."

The blush spread and deepened, warming her cheeks uncomfortably. She ducked her head. "Do you want my help or not?" She felt like a sulking child.

"I don't know how much it will help, but I appreciate the offer. Come up here and sit opposite me."

Izayoi obeyed, falling into a cross-legged stance opposite the powerful holy woman. Naruka grasped her hands and laid the left in her own, and then laid her own left hand in Izayoi's right, creating a circle. "Breathe deeply and let me know when you've reached your limit." Izayoi nodded. "Good. Brace yourself."

There was only that warning and a split second before Naruka's aura flared to violent life and began drawing voraciously on her own. It took her by surprise, being swallowed by purple radiance, and she nearly pulled away, before catching herself and making herself actively feed the mikoenergy. Her own energy, clear and green as sunlight through spring leaves, twined with the violet and somehow intensified it. _Take more, take more,_ she silently urged. The woman obeyed, drawing deeper yet. Izayoi moaned. It felt like water was being drawn out from every pore of her body, simultaneously agonizing and incredibly pleasurable. She surrendered completely, dissolving into the flow of bright energy.

_Take it all_.

Time dissolved into pure sensation. She was formless and floating, liquid and light. It was beautiful, and it was excruciating. She wailed soundlessly forever, searching for something to hold on to when the nothing became too much, grasping soundlessly into the light beyond light. A hand caught hers and held fast, drawing her into itself. She curled into the owner and there, found the strength to keep giving. Arms wrapped around her, or whatever it was that passed for arms here. They were warm and gentle and strong... but terribly tired, she felt.

So she gave her strength to the Other, flowed it into them like pouring water into a desert traveller's throat, and felt them receive it with gratitude.

A connection began to grow, nascent and fragile, between where their navels might have been. As they entwined with each other, it thickened into a cord of energy that was brighter still than the surrounding sea of radiance. It pulled them closer, forged them into one, single, messily conglomerated being. The new being turned its new strength back to Sakenmaru, and fought with all of its now-enormous heart to break the black wall around the dim aura of the still living lion lord.

The mission that it had almost forgotten was ridiculously easy, now. Their combined power smashed the serpentine binding spell like an obsidian window and before their eyes the lion's aura sparked to life and he awoke.

For a moment... eternity longer, they floated peacefully, task completed. They were loathe to divide from each other-- being_ one _was so... exhilarating. So for a little while longer, there was one.

And then at last, when they could hold on no longer, there were two.

Shadows returned, and Izayoi awoke to find herself twined tightly in an embrace with Naruka, covered in sweat and utterly exhausted. She laid her head on the other woman's shoulder. Before, it might have seemed strange to be sitting on a floor with a woman she had so recently deeply disliked, wrapped in a fervent embrace. But there was a bond, now, a sisterhood of sorts forged in the flames of mystic power, and the jealousy was a distant, faintly absurd memory.

She held her new sister and fell into another sort of oblivion.

xxxxx

"Did it work?" she asked feebly as soon as she felt alive enough to return.

"Yes," Naruka answered, brushing her tangled hair gently off her brow. "Yes, it worked. Thanks to you."

"Good. I was a help, then?"

Tinkling laughter.

"Oh, yes. I think you could say that."

Izayoi sighed thankfully and set about coming the rest of the way into consciousness. At the end of the long journey, she emerged into Naruka's arms to find Sakenmaru awake and deep in discussion with Inutaisho in the corner. "We did it!" she cheered weakly, startling Naruka, who laughed.

"You're an extraordinary young woman, you know," she said softly. "Nearly as strong as me, in a different way." She heaved a sigh, breath ghosting over Izayoi's forehead. "Do you know what we have wrought, you and I?" she asked, grave and ash-eyed.

Izayoi let her eyes soften into remembrance of the thing she'd found on the other side of oblivion. "_Aneue," _she whispered. Tears sprung to Naruka's eyes, and she nodded, slowly, once.

"A sisterhood, indeed. But one like none other, for you are also my _aneue,_ which cannot happen in birth sisters. Both cannot be older than the other, in the natural world. But now... now we are now each other's elder sisters." Her soft cheek dropped to rest on Izayoi's head.

Izayoi, the single child, began to weep silent tears of painful joy and tightened her grasp around Naruka's waist. "I can't believe I was ever jealous of you," she sniffled.

"Is _that _what it was!" Naruka exclaimed with amusement. "I knew you didn't like me, and thought it might be something like that, but I wasn't sure why. Silly girl, you had nothing to fear from me. If he is truly yours, then it would not matter, anything I could do. He would still be yours. And if he is not... then your jealousy would be misplaced." She sighed. "There is much you do not understand, but believe me, there is nothing romantic between Inutaisho and I."

They became aware that the strange position they were in was becoming uncomfortable, and disengaged their limbs with difficulty.

Seeing the mute question in Izayoi's eyes, Naruka took a deep breath and began to explain. "I am an orphan. I have been since I was very young. Someone found me in the forest, took pity, and left me at the gates of the Inu no Kyuden, the Dog Palace. A human maid found me and took me in, raising me with her own children and those of the demons. When my abilities were discovered, I left for training with Midoriko-sama, but came back when I was finished to protect my home. Inutaisho took a liking for me when I was small, and so I grew up as a sort of foster neice to him. As time went on and I got older, we became less like neice and uncle and more like cousins. Whenever he felt like he needed to get away from palace politics, he'd come and see me and we would go do relaxing things, like sojourning to find wildflowers or mushrooms in the woods. I am human, but I was raised with demons, and so Inutaisho does not see me quite the same as he does other humans. He calls me Naruko-chan, and I call him 'Taisho, but it doesn't have romantic significance, I promise." She smiled. "Is it clearer now?"

Izayoi nodded, a little overwhelmed. "I grew up a lot like that too," she confessed. "My father was an emissary, a diplomat to the Lord of the East. I was a sort of privileged hostage."

Naruka nodded her understanding.

"So there's really nothing between you and Inutaisho? I know it's none of my business and I can't understand why I'm so jealous. I'm a human, he'd never look at me. I'm not even sure I like him that way. But I'm still jealous. It's silly, isn't it."

"Well... yes. And no."

Izayoi cocked an eyebrow quizzically.

Naruka tapped her lip thoughtfully with a finger. "He is daiyoukai. All youkai of his high level have a natural sort of thrall over lesser life-forms. It manifests differently depending on the creature or the person, but one of the ways it can show up is as attraction and unreasonable possessiveness towards the daiyoukai in question. It's possible that is what is happening with you."

It made sense on the surface. But something was nagging at Izayoi, something that said it was true but not_ the Truth_. It was not a deep enough explanation, it was lacking; and it bothered her that she could not pinpoint exactly _what _was lacking.

"Or, alternately..." Naruka continued, face twitching like she was desperately repressing a smile, "you could just be falling in love with him."

Izayoi choked and spluttered, floundering a sudden flood of bewildering emotions. She felt half indignant and half confused, with a hearty dose of panic and outright embarrassment thrown in for good measure.

"Don't be ridiculous! That's preposterous! It's... impossible! It's... it's..." She faded off into silence, eyes losing focus.

Naruka merely looked at her, not judging, only letting her think about it.

After a moment of reflection, she had to admit the validity of the theory. "Damn, am I really?" she asked incredulously.

"Well if you ask my opinion..." started the now outrageously grinning Naruka, "then...yes. I do believe you are."

Izayoi rocked back on her haunches, utterly astounded. "_Really_?" She bit her lip thoughtfully. "Why?"

"You want me to answer _that?_"

"No, rhetorical question. Let me think."

_I'm falling in love with him? How stupid can I get? _she berated herself. As a human, falling for a demon was a profoundly unwise act, as all it was likely to get her was heartache and an early death at the hands of his friends. And the likelihood of reciprocation was slim next to none, which made loving one very painful and unrewarding.

_He spares my life, spares the babies, then saves me and my group again later. I save his life, risking my own to do so, then I do it again. So now I'm falling in love with him? How does that work? _It didn't, was the answer that came back. _I'm not falling because of that. Then why? _

Images began to flash through her mind, a different sort of answer. Him carrying her away in strong arms from the messy remains of her demon tormenter, to care for her. Him handing his wife's old clothing to her, terrible longing etched behind his eyes for that which was never coming back. Him kneeling, hair pulled aside, to let her ride on his back so that she would be spared unnecessary pain, at the cost of his dignity. Him caring for her when she was hungover. Him patiently guarding the hot spring where she bathed. Him tersely ordering her to safety when the youkai attacked. Her hands tangled in his hair, his half-conscious whimpers of pleasure. Him teaching her to whittle, laughing at her clumsiness but not unkindly, catching her hands to correct her position ever so gently. His hands on hers.

She remembered the way she felt when she saw him wounded and faltering, and the wild joy when he awoke again after his long unconsciousness. She contemplated her raging jealousy of Naruka in the beginning, seeing finally where it had come up from.

And she remembered dancing for him in the firelight, body offered chastely for his viewing pleasure. Gods_,_ she had _loved _dancing for him, loved knowing that his eyes were on her. Loved thinking that perhaps they liked what they saw.

"I'll be damned," she breathed. "You're right. Now what?"

Naruka only shrugged. "I suppose that's up to you, sweeting. What are you going to do about it?"

Terror bloomed in her chest. Visions of being coldly refused after confessing her feelings bloomed like necrotic flowers in her brain, and she shuddered. "Nothing. It's pointless to love a youkai."

Naruka grimaced. "I think you might be missing out on something truly wonderful if you deny yourself this," she said seriously. "The worst that can happen is you embarrass yourself, right? No one has ever, despite popular myth, died of humiliation. You may be uncomfortable for a good while, but you'll get over it eventually. If you don't risk it, you'll never know, and that may easily be worse than a few days humiliation."

"You're right... but I'm afraid," she admitted, scooting closer to her sister. "I'm not sure how I'll deal with being rejected." Naruka drew her close, rubbing circles on her back comfortingly.

"Nee-chan, I won't lie to you and say it wouldn't hurt. But don't automatically assume that's what you're getting yourself into. For all you know, the feeling's mutual."

Izayoi let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"That's the point. You don't know, and you won't unless you try."

"But...!"

"No buts. I'm not saying march up and tell him to his face right now, but if the opportunity presents itself... for your own sake, don't let it pass you by."

xxxxx

_A few minutes earlier_

xxxxx

Inutaisho helped the shaky, rather dusty Sakenmaru to his feet and supported him. The lion demon's golden beard was very long and ragged, his skin pale and haggard over his broad face, his wide shoulders badly hunched from sitting in one position for far too long. "Are you all right?" he inquired solicitously.

The aging lion demon nodded, neck creaking unpleasantly. "Inutaisho," he rasped. "You're alive... thank the gods_._"

Inutaisho froze. Sakenmaru sounded genuinely relieved to see him alive and well, which was quite incongruous with the image of him as a traitor working with Ryuunomei. Someone conspiring to have him assassinated would not, logically, be overjoyed to see him still wandering the mortal coil.

"If you are able," Inutaisho said urgently, "I would very much like some explanations."

Sakenmaru chuckled like rocks grating against each other. "I thought you might. To start with, I am not a traitor. I will swear to that on whatever you wish."

Inutaisho heaved an unconscious sigh of relief. He was really very fond of Sakenmaru, and learning that they were still allies was very comforting for obvious reasons.

"However, I am not sure how much use I will be to you, as I no longer have an army."

That was not so comforting.

"Pardon?"

"The Eastlord's spell has enslaved the souls of all those he did not kill outright. I do not know from where his power comes, but it is very great. Beyond my own, and beyond yours I am certain. However, the expedient fact right now is that I have no army, and from your presence here I assume nothing good."

"You assume correctly. I was betrayed. I have fled the castle with my remaining allies to seek aid elsewhere."

The canny old demon narrowed his eyes. "You are not telling me everything. What else is there?" In answer, Inutaisho look at the huddled women, feeling Sakenmaru's gaze follow his. "The woman? She is human! Naruka-san I understand, but who is this?"

"Her name is... not important." Strange, how he still could not bring himself to say her name. "She is a seer. We met earlier, and when she had a vision of my impending assassination she came to warn me." He gazed at her with troubled eyes. "She has suffered much on my behalf. Despite being human, she is an exceptional ally."

The tall demon, unbent with age, gazed at him knowingly. "You are fond of her."

Inutaisho shook his head negatingly. "She is useful, and not intolerable company." _Lies, lies, all lies! _his mind taunted him mercilessly. _Such a liar you are, even to yourself. How do you bear being so dishonest?_

"Nothing beyond that."

"Of course not. She is human."

Sakenmaru crossed his arms smugly. "Of course not. What was I thinking?"

"I am sure I do not know," he replied coldly. "You were telling me of the Eastlord's plot. Tell me what happened here."

"It is a very short and boring tale, really," Sakenmaru warned. "I was sitting here in the castle minding my business, when he strode in like he owned the place, with a small honour guard at his back. He told me I had two choices: join with him or die. I scoffed, of course-- it was ridiculous and beyond presumptuous. I told him I'd far rather die than come anywhere near his side of the battlefield." He paused, stroking his golden beard. "My memory beyond that is unclear. Someone behind him shouted something, and suddenly I could not move. I watched the souls of my staff be torn out, and I watched from outside my body as he slaughtered most of army and enslaved the rest. Then, I overheard him, as he was leaving, speak of the plot which was unfolding in your kingdom." He grew agitated, wringing his hands. "I wanted to warn you, I truly did. But I could not move. I tried. I am sorry that I could not do more."

Inutaisho laid a hand on the lion youkai's distraught shoulder. "Do not worry, my friend. I believe you. I will ask the woman about her vision, try and find out why it was inaccurate. It said you were working with Ryuunomei, but I see now that it is not true. I am sure there is another explanation for it."

Sakenmaru looked pathetically grateful. "Thank you for trusting me. I will not let you down, old friend. This I swear. Though... I am still uncertain as to how much help I can be without my army."

"My friend... I have exactly four allies, five now including you. Believe me, your power is a substantial addition. Welcome aboard." Inutaisho smiled ruefully at the stricken lion youkai.

"...Five?"

It sounded even worse in someone else's mouth, if that was possible.

"We are doomed. Doomed, I say."

**XxxxxxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	13. Mist and Magic

**A/N: **Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XIII: Mist and Magic**_

**xxxxx**

"Sire, I hate to interrupt," squawked Jaken, whom everyone had forgotten about, "but if I'm not mistaken, whoever's spell that was will have noticed its dissolution. Don't you think we should be getting out here now?" The four others turned from their conversations to look at him, a frisson of fear racing through the room as they realized he was right. Izayoi helped Naruka to her feet, and they were joined shortly thereafter by the daiyoukai.

The pathetic little circle stood and looked at eachother for a long, spiraling moment.

"I guess this is it then," Izayoi said softly. "The five of us against all of them." Two youkai lords, a priestess, a seer, and a toad. She giggled helplessly. "I bet our enemies are terrified."

Sakenmaru sidled over and gave her a one-arm hug, in a way that was probably meant to be surreptitious but just ended up looking shy and awkwardly sweet. She hugged him back. "We'll get through it, sweeting," he promised.

"We're not sure how yet, but where there's a will..." Naruka.. Somehow, there was no question that she would be staying with them. It went unspoken, as a thing just too obvious to say out loud.

"The important thing is what to do right now," Inutaisho interjected, reminding them of where their focus should be.

'"We need an army," Sakenmaru immediately replied.

"There is none available that I can think of."

There was a long, uncomfortable silence where they all looked at each other, searching for answers or inspiration of some sort. The silence stretched on... and on... and on... and on... until finally, it broke to the sound of hope.

"I think we need to be a little unorthodox here," Izayoi said, fiddling with her fingers. The other three looked at her expectantly, desperately hopeful she had something. She flushed under their scrutiny. "Well... the armies you're thinking of are youkai, right?"

Inutaisho crinkled his brow. "Of course, what else would they be?" Another smaller silence while she waited for them to figure it out.

Naruka suddenly sucked in a breath, understanding at last where Izayoi was going. "Human," she breathed. "Izayoi, you're a genius." The taiyoukai stared at them, uncomprehending. The women looked at eachother and sighed ruefully in unison. "Go ahead, Iza-chan, it was your idea."

Izayoi threw her heavy hair over her shoulder and took a nervous step forward. "There are what? A hundred thousand or so youkai in Japan?" They nodded, still blankfaced. She took a deep breath, feeling Naruka behind her, supporting her. "There are millions of humans," she said seriously, watching for their reaction.

It dawned on them at the same time, like lightning out of the clear blue sky. "You are mad," Inutaisho curtly snapped, eyes narrowed.

She glared at him.

Sakenmaru came to the rescue. "I am not so certain she is, old friend," he said thoughtfully a moment later.

Izayoi shot him a grateful look.

"What she says is true, there are very many of them, and if convinced the threat is great enough, they might indeed be convinced to fight. If they fight, and we plan wisely, it might just work. It's a very daring plan, my dear. I know if it was up to us, neither of us would have thought of it."

She blushed prettily, drawing Inutaisho's gaze. The others watched in fascination as he stared, obviously trying very hard not to... and failing miserably. Sakenmaru and Naruka moved to get a better view of the highly entertaining spectacle. Inutaisho and Izayoi's eyes met, and they gazed at each other for a while, not speaking, the air between them fairly crackling.

"Unless you're going to kiss her, I suggest we leave now," Sakenmaru broke in wryly, making them both jump guiltily.

Naruka grinned widely.

"Certainly, let us depart," Inutaisho said with all the dignity he could muster. Which, admittedly, wasn't much.

Stifling laughter, they and the rather humilated inuyoukai and seer walked out of the castle into the masked sunlight.

Sobriety returned with a shock when the saw the purposefully aimless undead wandering about in a decisive confusion. Sakenmaru looked as though he were about to weep when he took in the sad state of decaying disrepair his ancestral home was in. The jungle was growing over it, inch by inch, everywhere he looked.

"What do you want to do about this?" Inutaisho asked quietly.

"Burn it," Sakenmaru said, surprising himself and the rest of them with the coldness in his voice. "It is tainted. Burn it to the ground. When we have won, I will rebuild it." There was a lonesome fierceness to his voice that remined of an eagle flying over a mountain ridge, fiercely crying its mastery despite its solitude. He was alone, but over this one thing he still had power. Inutaisho nodded his understanding and fished the flint and tinder out of Ah-Un's pack.

Moments later, the nascent flames began to lick yellowly up the moss-grown wood-and-paper walls. Sakenmaru watched, stonefaced, as timbers soaked in his childhood memories turned slowly to ash and crumbled before his eyes. Before long, the place was a raging inferno, towering flames licking the sky, vomiting black smoke. The undead, eerily, continued their disjointed, jerky waltz through the grounds, undisturbed by their own bubbling skin and melting flesh. Izayoi shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to see but riveted nonetheless.

Until Inutaisho quietly turned her head away from the carnage with a hand, forcing her to look into his eyes (horribly reflecting the flames) instead. She did not want to look there, so she buried her face in his shoulder. He stiffened but did not move away.

The conflagration hurled millions of short-lived sparks into the heavens like prayers, dying before they ever reached anyone interested in listening. The ancient timbers groaned and shattered like bones, collapsing into the glowing ashes. The night grew warm with smoke. Green vanished into the crimsongold vengeance that devoured it mercilessly. It was a prodigious fire, really, and the five of them and Ah-Un watched with eyes blinking frequently against flying ash.

They watched until there was nothing left but glowing coals and scarred, blackened remains. Where once had stood the great and beautiful compound of the Southern rulers now smoldered only an unsightly scar on the landscape, still emanating heat and floating white detritus. The sun had risen, unnoticed, while they stood and watched in fascination the end of an era. Somehow, Izayoi had moved to face it again, and was protectively coiled in the circle of Inutaisho's arms. Strangely, they were not uncomfortable, and instinctively they knew that something had changed between them during those flame-lit hours.

Sakenmaru was kneeling with the dried, saline trails of tears streaking his cheeks to the point where they disappeared into his beard. Naruka was sitting silently at Izayoi's feet, and Jaken was asleep, snoring loudly beneath Ah-Un's imperturbable belly.

It took them a long time to rouse themselves from the trance induced by flickering fire. When they finally roused themselves, it was midday and almost hot. They were hungry, and Sakenmaru articulately cursed himself for not preserving the viable supplies left in the castle. Izayoi shared what little they had left, and they planned and plotted while they ate.

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru smiled in satisfaction. The maids bustled about occupied with their various tasks, courtiers were busy with paperwork, and everyone in between was at least _looking _busy if not genuinely on a valuable errand. Three days, and the compound was restored to acceptable order. He felt justified in feeling just a little proud. He was only a youngling, but they had quickly learned at the needlepoint tips of his venomous claws to obey without question. And now look- everything was running like clockwork. He allowed himself a rare smile.

Then he turned his mind to his disturbingly absent father. Where was he? Why had he left without a word of explanation, and who was the mysterious human woman with him? It was worrying to think of his father, whom he greatly respected, out alone in the wilderness for unexplained reasons. The lack of explanation spoke of secrets, and secrets spoke of danger to young Sesshoumaru.

There was a deferent tapping at the shoji, and at his permission a maidservant gracefully flowed into the room, bearing a tray with his midday meal. She set it down, made an obeisance, and left without a word. He liked maide like that, the chatter-filled ones drove him up the wall. As habit dictated, he picked up the hot cup of cha and sipped it first, thoughtfully. He wondered if they'd changed the supplier- it was good, but it tasted slightly different from usual.

Most of the cupful had found its way down his throat when it started. Where before the tea had been merely a warmth in his belly, now it was hot, almost scorching. Since tea did not tend to get _hotter_ after drunk, this was worrisome. He placed a clawed, violet-striped hand on his flat midriff and furrowed his brow. It was beginning to hurt. Sesshoumaru did not like pain, unless he was causing it to someone else. Where was this coming from?

_The tea. _His eyes snapped to the innocent-looking cup. He might only be a hundred years old, but he could figure out what sudden gut pain after drinking something that tastes funny meant.

Poison.

There was a traitor in the castle. He understood now his father's reason for leaving so precipitously-- he was worried for his life, and for the mysterious woman's. Instead of panicking and racing for the doctor, Sesshoumaru flexed his poisonous claws and smiled a black smile full of death.

Of all the possible methods of assassinating someone, the foolish traitor had chosen poison. How utterly stupid and ignorant of them. Being a poison-bearing creature himself, he had a very high natural resistance to poison. The fact that it gave him a stomachache at all was an indication of how nasty the chosen poison truly was-- most commonplace substances passed right through him without notice. His body was adept at creating antidotes. Without that ability, he would have accidentally poisoned himself to death as a child many times over.

He crossed his arms behind his head and sat back, waiting for his body to take care of it. It only took a few minutes. When the unpleasant internal heat was completely gone, he stood up, stretched, and bared his teeth in a humourless grin.

It was time to go traitor-hunting.

xxxxx

The traitor paced the courtyard, blank-faced but internally rejoicing. The young whelp had drunk the poison! Now all that was left was waiting for the death cry to ring sweetly out over the courtyard. It would only be a few minutes now. They wanted to scream their triumph to the skies, but knew that most of the castle was still loyal and that doing so would mean immediate, painful death for them.

So they celebrated in silence.

Minutes passed, and the castle went about its business. More minutes passed, and still the castle bustled about as if everything was normal. As if their prince was not dead. Where was the death cry? Why was no one creating a fuss? Where was the uproar that should have erupted by now?

The traitor began to feel nervous. Something was not right. Had the maid lied? She'd said very plainly that he'd drunk nearly the entire cup down. No one, not even a daiyoukai, could survive that.

And so it came as a heart-stopping shock to see the young lord, apparently unharmed, walk calmly out of the compound into the courtyard. His eyes were terrifying- blank and lethal, focused and simmering with roiling anger just below the surface. The traitor froze in place. Against all likelihood, the plan had failed and the prince was still alive, and out for vengeance. Now what to do? Running would be suspicious, staying riveted to the ground like an extremely terrified stone would be a dead giveaway. So they began to walk purposefully towards an open shoji. _Going somewhere, going somewhere..._ they desperately projected.

The relief they felt when Sesshoumaru turned away and walked in the other direction nearly bowled them over. _So close... breathe. He still does not suspect. Lie in wait, try again another day..._

xxxxx

They had spent a fine day walking through Sakenmaru's lands towards the very tip of the small peninsula that was all he owned of the mainland. That was where, according to both Izayoi and Naruka, the mana blockage was located. All around them, the trees blazed in autumnal glory. The sun was out. It truly was a beautiful day. But beneath its lovely surface, the increasingly powerful ocean of mana roiled and sought to break the barrier between it and the surface. As much as possible, they stuck to the higher slopes, above the seething leakage flowing through the valleys.

Now at last, they stood at the site of impending apocalypse, still in time to prevent it.

It did not look very impressive-- merely a clearing in the woods, sunlit and innocuous but for the object in its exact center. Izayoi looked closer and gasped-- it was an exact replica of the talisman she carried within her, only much larger, perhaps twice Inutaisho's height. It was oblong, driven into the ground on its end at a drunken angle. The entire obsidian surface was inscribed with ancient, complex kanji that glowed a deep red in the shadows. It was thoroughly evil looking, and the hairs on their arms raised as though they were cold, though the day was balmy and there was little wind.

Naruka looked as though she were about to be ill. Izayoi knew why-- beneath them she could feel what the great black stone was doing. The physical component of it was minor and only a tiny fraction of the whole-- spreading out from its sides in awesome, monolithic arcs were spiritual barriers, higher than the they can sense the top of and deeper dug into the earth than they could follow. The barriers swung out like terrible wings into the ocean on either side of the peninsula, sweeping southwards into the shape of a giant, upended arc. The sheer _size _of it was utterly awe-inspiring, and those who could sense it were silent and fought not to be overwhelmed.

_So this is how it works,_ she thought, understanding now. The overflowing mana seeped over the edges of the great bowl and poured down into the drought north of them, causing a maelstrom where they met of clashing magics from the east and west. The bulk of the trapped mana by _far _was behind the shimmering arc, an inconceivably vast reservoir of pent up power.

"By the gods," she heard Naruka whisper, and echoed her in her own mind. She felt as though she were standing in the valley at the base of an enormous dam, knowing the sheer force of water straining behind its stone walls and knowing how easily it could crush her. She felt like an insect, insignificant and below notice. They were dealing with more than men, more than demons here. This was the work of a god, or several.

They were going to lose, she realized.

Even with all the armies of the world, there was no way to fight against something with this kind of power-- it would be analagous to a dormouse attempting to slay an elephant. Utterly, truly impossible. If she tried to remove the barrier now, all it would do would be to unleash the apocalypse behind it just a little sooner. All their bright hope died in a sad, tarnished flicker. It was over. There was no defense, no possible path that would prevent this. The West was doomed. Probably a large part of the East, too-- the flood was too immense to direct that precisely. The northern half of Shikoku was probably already ravaged by the overflowing mana.

_Oh, spirits, what do we do? _she prayed, knowing full well it was futile. There was nothing.

And so she was very, very surprised to hear them answer. _You know,_ they whispered. _You know what to do. Be not afraid. This is your destiny._

"No," she breathed. "Oh, please, no."

"What is it?" Naruka asked, laying a gentle hand on her shaking shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Izayoi ignored her and turned wide, shimmering eyes on Inutaisho. He met her shaken gaze with his own. They held the contact for a moment, and then she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling hot tears roll down her cheeks. "I know what to do," she said, surrendering to her fate. Hope sputtered back to life in the eyes of her companions, and for that is was almost worth it.

Almost.

"I have to go through the barrier."

Uproar met her words, and they all demanded an explanation at once. Naruka embraced her as though to hold her there and prevent her from moving, Inutaisho narrowed his eyes, and Sakenmaru sorrowed in silence. She thought Inutaisho might already understand. Taking a deep, shaky breath, she pulled away to face them, head high. "I have the matching talisman in my belly. It works by drawing mana out of the surroundings and storing it. If I use it with my magical power, I should be able to increase its power so that it draws more mana, much more. Then I will walk into the maelstrom and it will draw the flood into itself, so that the barrier can be safely removed." She paused, knowing what they were about to suggest. "It will not come out, I have tried. So please don't say it." Their mouths closed with an audible snap.

It made perfect sense, and they knew it. But there was one glaring flaw in this plan-- there was no way she would ever survive it. There would be nothing left of her when it was finished. Beyond fear now, she turned to Naruka, addressing her directly. "When the mana goes down far enough, it will be your job to remove the barrier. Make sure you put up a shield to protect you and the others from what flow is left."

She turned next to Inutaisho. "Once the barrier is gone, get everyone airborne as soon as possible. You'll be safest in the sky."

There seemed to be nothing left to say. Taking a long, laden glance at everyone to blaze their faces in her memory, she turned and walked down into the clearing.

"_Wait!" _Naruka cried, heart in her voice. "_Aneue, don't!_" Izayoi froze, and cried harder. "There must be another way! Please, don't go!"

There was none, the spirit-gods had told her so. "This is the only way," she said, voice eerily flat. "This is my destiny." Echoing the words of gods. Who was she to argue with them? Nobody. Just a pawn, expendable and worth little. Her life would be given to save that of thousands- she should feel proud and honourable, according to the books. But she didn't. All she felt was small and worthless and afraid. Every word her sister spoke tore her to bleeding pieces.

The great obsidian statue was only feet away. She put her hand on it, feeling it thrum with incredible power. _It is time. We shall be waiting for you on the other side. _So she was to have a welcoming party, was she? It almost made her laugh.

Before she could think about it for another moment, she pulled her hand back and walked resolutely past the stone into the end of the world.

xxxxx

He watched her go, wrestling with himself. He knew she would die if she went through with her plan, knew that he should not care. Knew also that he _did_ care, for complicated reasons he did not have time to figure out.

She was beautiful, she was courageous, she was his ally, perhaps his friend, and she was about to die.

_No._

He saw her walk past the stone into the maelstrom, and saw the mana seize her, bending her backwards in wrenching agony. Her hair, her beautiful hair, stood on end, flying about her like live serpents. She shook as though she would fall apart.

_No!_

Not entirely sure what he was going to do, he launched himself out of his standing position towards her twisting, bent form. When he entered the mana, it was like being hit by an endless bolt of lightning, energy tearing through his body at incredible speed. He fought to remain conscious. She was just up ahead-- three feet at the most. They were the hardest three feet he'd ever crossed in his life.

And then she was in his arms, writhing and insensate. _At least she will not feel it_, he thought thankfully, and plunged his claws deep into her soft belly. He tried to disturb as little as possible, and kept his poison carefully in check. Amidst all the hot, steaming innards, it was hard to find, but eventually he felt the hard lump through her stomach wall.

It was a long shot, he knew- chances were this half-evisceration would kill her as well. But with this, there was hope-- the magics offered none. With a quick, squelching tug, he removed the talisman and threw it as far away as he could.

She collapsed, twitching and eyes rolled back into her head, into his arms. The stench of blood hung heavy on the air. With the last of his strength, he hurled them both back beyond the stone to safety.

Every nerve of his body overloaded, the moment he felt them pass the barrier, he fell into unconsciousness, not even feeling the impact with the ground.

xxxxx

They found each other, beyond the walls of dreaming. _You saved me,_ she said, drifting closer to him. _Why?_

_I do not know_, he answered, and it was almost true. But not quite. _Because I wanted to?_

_Why?_

_Because you are my ally. _

_There is more. _

He wished she'd leave him alone to drift. He felt thin, stretched, like if someone touched him he would split like fabric winched too tightly.

_Because you are my friend._

_Is that all? _

_Yes! _he cried, frustrated.

She sighed around him like mist on the breeze, caressing his spirit with cool, soothing fingers.

_I don't believe you. _

And then she was gone, risen into consciousness like a shining bubble to the surface of a dark lake. He was left alone with his thoughts.

_That is all, _he tried to convince himself. _She is a friend and ally and I value her. So, I did not want to see her dead. What else would there be? _Little voice just out of sight seemed to chuckle mockingly, and he became angry. _There is nothing else. _But still he felt as though he were lying to himself, an unpleasant sensation. _That is all! _

_...Is it not? _

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	14. Molasses

**A/N: **Remember for this chapter that I'm using the timeline in which Inuyasha is approximately two hundred years old, not the canon seventeen. Thus, it is possible that Jaken could have served under Inutaisho first.

Thanks, and enjoy the chapter!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XIV: Molasses**_

**xxxxx**

Neither of them knew just how close it had been.

He woke like molasses to find an exhausted _miko _draped across him, and a miraculously alive seer curled at his side. The lion king sat a distance off, afraid to enter the circle of healing. Inutaisho looked down at Naruka's pale face, tearstained and tight with worry even in sleep. Dark shadows had moved in beneath her eyes, giving her a haggard appearance. "Naru-chan," he whispered, and caressed her damp head. "Thank you."

Then he turned his attention to the seer. Izayoi lay flat on her back, knees bent as though trying to hold her stomach in. Which, he supposed, she had been until Naruka had healed the gaping wound he'd created. Her hair was spread messily around her, tangled and matted with soil and plant life. Her hands were dirty from scratching at the ground in her pain. Any other person would have looked filthy and unappealing, but not she. It just made her look like a dryad or some other fae child of the woodlands, crowned with leaves. She was a thing of nature in every way.

She should have been dead.

But she wasn't, and all he could feel was relieved.

It was then that he discovered his own pain, halfway to sitting up. Crying out, he fell back and writhed, throwing Naruka unintentionally away from him. Every nerve burned as though flayed and bathed in salt. His demonic aura was nearly extinguished, exhausted in the effort of dragging them safely out of hell. There was hardly enough left to best a strong human. Even a hanyou child could soundly trounce him in his current state. He had not been so debilitatingly weak since he was a child. Possibly not even then.

It was yet another new feeling. They seemed to crawl out of the woodwork the longer he traveled with the woman. However, all the other emotions she'd made him discover-- protectiveness, lack of clarity, anger, admiration-- those he had all felt before, just never towards humans. But this sensation of total helplessness was truly new.

_Is this how humans feel all the time? _

Of course not, logic said. They are accustomed to it, since they have never experienced your strength they have nothing to compare it to.

So logic said. Experience was a different matter. It felt disgusting, and he began to pity the poor crawling things that were bound to the ground like this. Pity, he felt, and a mix of others regarding himself including shame, disgust, and the slightest tracing of fear. If anything were to happen on them at this time...

Sakenmaru would protect them. He remembered suddenly the lion's presence and relaxed, just a little bit. The old and powerful daiyoukai had the strength to protect them until Inutaisho regained his strength. There was no need to worry.

_But_, a niggling worry spake, _he was defeated once before_.

_He was caught unawares, unprepared. This is different. _But to his dismay, he could not convince himself. In his mind's eye, the lion had already been defeated once. It could happen again. He was not adequate protection.

Inutaisho turned his formidable will to healing as fast as demonically possible. Be _damned _if he'd be caught with wilted ears and his tail dragging! He wished he had the human ability to draw energy from the surrounding landscape with green magic-- rebuilding energy stores was a long, tedious process with no known shortcuts. He would need food. A lot of it.

"Sakenmaru," he wheezed, aghast at the weakness of his voice. The demon stood and walked over, strong and hale... the only one of them still possessed of all his capacities. Inutaisho repressed a sick wave of envy and concentrated on the task at hand. "I am hungry."

"Ah!" Sakenmaru said with a smile. "Your energy stores are depleted, yes? Wait here, I will hunt." And with that he was gone, bounding away into the underbrush, before Inutaisho could open his mouth and remind him of the folly of leaving three wounded and exhausted people defenseless in the middle of nowhere.

A growl sounded off to the side, and he remembered Ah-Un. Well, not completely defenseless then, but he still felt vaguely uncomfortable with the whole situation.

Naruka stirred. Even when he'd thrown her off, she had not woken, being too far into recuperative trance sleep to notice. But now, it seemed, she was recovered enough to stand being conscious for a little while. Her quick bright eyes scanned the tableau before her, and finding everyone alive and seemingly free from major complications, she heaved a sigh of relief. She murmured a soft prayer of gratitude to some obscure goddess he'd never heard of, and then bowed low, pressing her nose into the earth.

He raised an eyebrow. Humans were so strange. In his experience, deities were usually satisfied with a simple prayer, or little offering. This groveling display seemed overbearing to him.

And then he realized she was thanking them for saving his life and Izayoi's, and suddenly it did not seem to be too much after all. Suddenly, he felt like bowing himself. He was alive thanks to the power of these godsshe'd called upon, and because of her own unfaltering efforts.

Naruka crawled tiredly over to Izayoi's side and laid a hand on her face. "Aneue," she whispered, tracing a kanji onto the pale skin of her forehead. Izayoi groaned, and rolled onto her side in the fetal position.

"Ouch," she moaned.

Inutaisho winced. He knew she would have been dead if not for his actions, but he still felt obscurely guilty about... well, nearly disembowling her. She was damned lucky to be alive, and it was all thanks to him, but the guilt would not go away. After all his rage at the ferret and Ryuunomei, all his posturing protectiveness, in the end it was _him_ who came nearest to killing her.

_She was going to die, and she knew it. She went anyways to save my people, as well as her own. It would have been a good, honorable, clean death. But no, I have to go jumping in their like an intoxicated rabbit and start punching holes in her gut and dragging her around. I stole her honourable death, and now she is alive and suffering. My fault. _

It was a highly illogical ramble, and he knew it. But the little voice in the back of his mind yammered on and on and nothing he could do would stop it. Though he tried, summoning images of various highly amusing or engrossing images, like the little triangle of flesh at the base of Mai's curved spine, or his son's cold eyes and indigo markings, or singing elephants in formal _kimono _carrying paper umbrellas.

_My fault, my fault, my fault! _sang the maddening little jabberer as a backdrop to the titillating slide show.

He wanted to claw his eyes out, tear his hear out, anything, _anything _to stop the flagellation. _Logically, _he knew that he had done the right thing and that he should be proud of himself for saving her when it seemed to impossible. But logic, it seemed, had totally deserted him for that night.

Dark eyes met his, and he could not look away. There were crystalline tears limning her eyelashes. Izayoi reached out as though to touch him, hand hanging in the air between them, before apparently thinking better of it. She let her hand fall back into her lap. Her eyes never wavered from their death grip on his.

"I don't have the words to thank you," she whispered.

"Do not bother. I do not need your thanks."

She shook her head, hair flying. "I would not feel right if I let you go unthanked for this. But I cannot find the words."

"Hn." He turned away, feeling glad that she was not angry with him for hurting her.

She was silent for a moment. Then... "Since I cannot find the words, may I express my thanks in another way?"

His eyebrow twitched. _Another way? What? _"Er... I suppose so..."

A massive smile split her face. "Thank you!"

"I thought you couldn't..." ... _Oh. So that is what you meant._

He stared up at her, and time screeched to an inelegant halt. She was hanging in the air above him, halfway to reaching him, arms akimbo and crystal tears spilling from her eyes. Her glorious hair streamed behind her in a sable banner, woven with greenery like a witch's. Those pale, slender fingers were so close to his face... time resumed, though slowly. She landed so slowly, so softly... yet he was nearly overturned by the force of it.

Pale arms wound around his neck, chill and silken. He shuddered, unsure as to whether he was repelled or attracted. The soft curtain of hair fell around him, its normal meadow fragrance intertwined with the forest's earthen one. His eyes fluttered shut and he inhaled involuntarily. Where she pressed against him, she was warm, he noted. Only the skin exposed to the elements was so cold.

_She will catch cold if she continues running around in those rags._ The concern shocked him. _Since when do I care anything for the health of _ningen?

_Since you met this one, and she wormed her way into your heart. You weakminded, overly sentimental fool. Push her away, if you have any honour left._

Yes, that was it. Push her away. No human could be allowed to affect him so, the great and mighty daiyoukai of the West. No human should be allowed to touch his royal person without retaliation. No human, not even her. Push her away. He _was, _he was pushing her away, cold-eyed and indifferent... he was pushing her... he was...

...settling his fingers into her hair and pulling her closer so he could lean his face on the top of the mass of perfumed locks.

_Damnation. What happened to pushing her away? Push her away! Away, damn you! _

He could feel her little fingers curling into the back of his haori, feel her trying to draw closer yet. He could hear the gentle thudding of her strong young heart, hear her breath ebbing and flowing as it sighed past his neck. And he could smell her. It was his nose, as usual, that was the greatest traitor. It had betrayed him all the way back in her village, when he'd bathed in her brethren's blood. It should have been easy to kill her, but with his nose buried in that impossibly sweet feast... and now here he was again, face plastered to her hair as though nailed there.

"Thank you," she breathed into his shoulder. "Thank you so much. I don't care why you did it, don't tell me. Just thank you."

Her words were butterfly wings in his ears. The fine hairs on his neck stiffened. Words, words... _words, words, where have they gone? What do I say? _

"You are welcome."

_Thank the gods for instinct and habit. _He sighed in relief. Saved...

A few moments later, something came to his attention that was rather disturbing and certainly not permissible.

She was not letting go.

"I_.._. er... hmmm." _Words! What are the words! _"If you are quite finished molesting my person, perhaps you might..."

"Oh!" She jumped back as though scalded, face burning. "I'm so sorry. I just... well... er."

Compared to her, he was downright dignified. _Glad to know I am not the only one the god of verbosity has abandoned. _The knowledge made him feel a little smug-- if she had to have the power to reduce him to little more than a grunting cavedweller, it was somewhat satisfying to know that he had the power to do the same to her.

"Apology accepted. And thanks accepted, also."

She stared at him, eyes wide and brimming with tears again.

_Blasted mortal women, always weeping. They are worse than midges, worse than backstabbing servants, worse than children, worse than... _His entertaining train of thought was interrupted when he noticed her shivering in the wind. Winter was very close, he knew. There was frost in the air. _Humans are disgusting when they are ill. _With that as his rationalization, he pulled off his deep red haori and draped it around her shoulders.

"You will fall ill. That would be inconvenient," he snapped at her look of wonderment and the beginning of a warm smile.

"Of course. Thank you."

She didn't have to sound so damned...! So... what? It wasn't smug, wasn't superior, wasn't really anything negative or offensive. She was just flattered, and thankful.

_Damn it all_.

"What are we going to do next?" Naruka asked from the sidelines unexpectedly, making them both jump. "We can't stay here, they'll be coming here first thing when they feel the barrier fall."

"And going north would be very unwise since that's just going deeper into enemy territory," Izayoi mused.

"I don't particularily feel like going to China or Korea or Taiwan at the moment," Inutaisho jumped in, grateful for the distraction.

A crashing in the underbrush made them freeze. A moment later, Sakenmaru, dragging a dead deer behind him casually, burst through into the clearing. "Well then!" he bellowed, "Why don't you just come down into my lands for a while? I know of a nice little winter palace in southern Kyushu..."

They sat dumbstruck. The answer was so _obvious_...

"Er! Yes, of course! If it's no imposition, that is! If you wouldn't mind!" Sakenmaru dropped a heavy, bloodstained hand affectionately on Izayoi's shoulder.

"Of course it's no imposition! Wouldn't have offered if it was! Come on, it's very nice down there this time of year..."

Inutaisho abruptly stood up and bowed. "Thank you. We will." He straightened, and then in truly comic fashion keeled over as the blood rushed to his head in a vertigal spiral. "Ohhh..." he moaned, lying dizzily on the ground.

"Inutaisho! Are you all right?" Izayoi cried, rushing to his side.

_Stop the world, I want to get off! _Gods, he was _so weak! _He felt terrible.

"Perhaps you should ride on Ah-Un?" Izayoi suggested gently. "We'll be needing your strength later, when it comes time to strike back. You should conserve it now."

That rankled. Very much. He knew she was right, but to be carried around like an ailing grandmother...!

"No!" he blurted. "I will walk, thank you!"

Izayoi covered her mouth with her hand, and he got the uncomfortable impression that she was desperately suppressing a laugh.

_How dare she laugh at me! _

"I'm sorry," she murmured in a low, mellifluous voice when she saw the growing thunder of his face. "It's just... you looked so very proud, just now, even... even sprawled in the dirt." And then she did giggle, helplessly and quietly at first, then as it took over her, she began to laugh outright, hand still uselessly clapped over her mouth.

Inutaisho did something he hadn't done since he was a child-- he blushed.

And that only made her laugh harder. _Damn her. This is so humiliating. But I will _not _be toted around on dragonback like an invalid! I will not!_

He pulled himself to his feet and this time, prepared for the onset of vertigo, remained upright. Though he did sway, just a little.

She stopped laughing, though he could tell it was only through a great deal of effort.

_Damn her! Damn her! Why can I not kill you? It would be so satisfying right now to delicately remove your intestines while you watch. But that would just waste all that effort I gave saving you, wouldn't it? Damn you, Izayoi!_

"Well then!" Sakenmaru exclaimed brightly. "I've got fresh venison. Any takers?"

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	15. Thin Black Line

It turns out that the Stigmata soundtrack is very conducive to creativity. I wasn't expecting to finish this until the weekend sometimes, but voila! Here it is! This chapter wrote itself, it really did. Thank you, my beloved muses!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XV: Thin Black Line**_

**xxxxx**

"Nii-sama," Ryuukossei ventured quietly, hovering on the border between in-the-room and in-the-hallway. The room was almost perfectly dark, the air warm and heavy. Except for the place where a slight, stooped figure stood outlined in a brilliant slash of brilliance-a window. Pale hands delicately held the curtain out of the way as the figure gazed out bleakly at the garden beyond the cold glass.

"What do you want?" The voice was chill, liquid and mesmerizing as falling water. So soft, and yet there was the shivering glance of power hiding behind its corners.

"Nii-sama, Hebi failed. The whelp lives, and his father is nowhere to be found."

The silence from the thin figure was ominous, heavy with menace. Ryuukossei shivered and laid a hand on the reassuring hilt of his faithful sword. His ribs constricted. His brother's fury was a legendary thing, deeply frightening even to him. Anger in those with the power to indulge in it was rarely beautiful, but in Ryuunomei it was hideous. When he gave in to anger, people died, and died badly.

"Failed?" he asked, softly. It was so wrong, the gentle softness of his voice. It was at such sharp odds with what lay beneath it.

Terror bloomed in Ryuukossei's broad chest. The shadow of pain winked malevolently at him from the darkest corner. He shuddered and forced himself to continue.

"He attempted to poison the youngster, but it seems the child has a natural resistance to all forms of poison, inherited from his mother. He hardly even became ill."

Ryuunomei made a choking sound, and his thin shoulders stiffened.

Ryuukossei closed his eyes and prayed for his life.

His older brother, so frail and sickly looking, whirled and in the blink of an eye was standing shoulder to shoulder with him, his claws deep in Ryuukossei's thick muscle. "That is a _minor_ issue," he hissed, baleful green eyes flashing demonically in the darkness.

"Minor...?" Ryuukossei gasped, the agony in his shoulder strangling his voice. What about that was _minor? _Sesshoumaru lived, and their main target, Inutaisho, was missing. That classified as fairly major indeed in Ryuukossei's book.

The horrific eyes narrowed disdainfully.

"Such a weakling. You cannot even feel it, can you?" Ryuunomei laughed, tinkling and almost feminine except for the death that lurked behind it. It was the sound of despair, falling flat on the air.

Ryuukossei furrowed his brow. "Feel what, nii-sama?"

"It's gone," Ryuunomei whispered. "Gone, you simple-minded fool. And I can think of only one who could have made it so."

Ryuukossei was a soldier. He was a warrior of the highest class, swift and lethal on the battlefield. In situations of life or death, he made decisions faster than thought and had never lost a batttle. But when it came to slow plotting and multi-stranded thought, he was lost as a child. His older brother, devious and brilliant despite his twisted heart, utterly mystified him. "My lord brother, I do not understand."

"Hah. I did not expect you to, my dear, stupid flesh and blood. Tell me, brother," he whispered, leaning his dark head gracefully into Ryuukossei's ear, "where is the human woman?"

The dragon demon froze, strong jaw clenched. His brother's claws sank a little deeper, and his slight figure swayed sensuously into Ryuukossei's tall form.

"You've lost her, haven't you."

It wasn't a question, so Ryuukossei did not answer, only gritted his teeth and braced himself. He was not disappointed.

Ryuunomei, with terrifying speed, pulled away and backhanded him with a strength that belied his unimposing stature. His eyes widened, irises shrinking to malevolent hunter-green pinpricks. "Imbecile! Did I not make it clear that there was a _reason _I wanted her watched?"

Ryuukossei wondered if perhaps, this time his brother would actually finish killing him.

Ryuunomei's youki exploded and the castle trembled along with the ground it stood on. His short, lank, purple-black hair rose on the unseen wind and sparks danced within it. "You _dare _to defy my orders!" he shrieked. What little light there was in the room vanished, sucked into Ryuunomei as though it had never been. Only his eyes and the shattersparking of his youki's dance hung in the darkness.

Ryuukossei resigned himself to death, and closed his eyes.

Instead of a death blow, however, he was shocked to feel his brother's youki diminish to non-threatening levels, and then thin arms circling his chest almost lovingly. He looked down to see the dark head resting gently on his armour-plated shoulder. "Ah, little brother," Ryuunomei whispered, and a long hand floated up to caress Ryuukossei's strong boned face. "I could never kill you. You are merely a thick idiot, you did not mean to hurt me so. I will forgive you." He pulled away from the shell-shocked Ryuukossei, who could not even move. "I will forgive you... this time. Do not _ever _fail me again."

The threat was clear, and Ryuukossei choked out an affirmation through his terror.

"Good," Ryuunomei hissed, but it did not sound like a reply to his brother. More, it sounded as though he were speaking to himself. He folded his swanlike hands into the deep folds of his robe and returned to the window to watch the first flakes of winter fall. "Yes, good."

xxxxx

Izayoi leaned against the shoji, shaking. "I can't do this," she whispered. Outside, she could hear the genial cacophony of a town full of people, gathered in one tiny square. Waiting for her to speak to them. Waiting for her to convince them to march into what was very likely going to be the death of most of them. There were thousands of men out there, all the samurai of the city and the surrounding countryside. Along with a few more militant women, and a few _ronin_, wandering alone and lordless.

"I can't, I can't!" she cried softly, pounding a fist against the wooden frame with enough force to make it splinter slightly.

_There's so many! I couldn't possibly...! _

"What is the delay, woman?" Inutaisho growled from behind her.

She sagged against the door. "I can't," she said simply, and straightening, turned around to walk away. She didn't even see him move, but somehow there was his broad chest between her and the exit.

"You must."

"Why? Why me?" she wailed plaintively. "I hate public speaking! I'll make a fool of myself!"

"You are making a fool of yourself now," he pointed out.

"It's different! I know you! You won't lynch me if I say the wrong thing!"

"No, I would use my claws. I have no use for human methods of execution."

She stared at him. "You are _not _helping."

He shrugged, nonchalant. "They will not listen to me, or Sakenmaru. Naruka does not have a loud enough voice."

"Are you saying I'm a loudmouth?" she snapped, crossing her arms and turning away from him indignantly. Behind her, she felt more than heard his long-suffering sigh.

"Will you do it or not? This is your idea, after all."

She gasped. "My idea, _your _kingdom on the line! I have _no _reason to do this for you except the goodness of my heart! I don't owe you _anything!_"

He appeared to consider this for a moment. "Very well, then. If you will not do it, just say so and I will find someone else."

_Why is this so difficult? I just have to go out and tell them there's an evil demon king to the north that wants to rule Japan under his iron thumb, and I need them to help stop him. Simple. So why is it so hard to go out there?_

She was so nervous, swallowing and even breathing had become difficult. "What if they lynch me?" she whispered in a small voice. "I am, after all, about to suggest that they go to war against _demons_."

A strong hand clasped her shoulder and turned her around to meet the annoyed glare of Inutaisho's golden eyes. "You honestly think," he said quietly, "that I would let you die after all the trouble I just went through to keep you alive?"

It was a valid point. The fear abated-- just a little-- and she managed to suck in a breath. "I suppose not. But..."

"'But,' nothing. I am sure you will do fine. Now get out there."

She stared over her shoulder in astonishment at him all the while as he bodily shoved her through the door. _That was a compliment. Yes, it was. It really was. He just complimented me. Inutaisho_._ I'm dreaming. Or I'm dead after all. _These thoughts were so engrossing, she hardly even noticed until she was standing on the raised box before the milling crowd.

The anxiety returned, slamming into her gut full force, and she was nearly sick.

"Er," she began.

_Beautiful. Lovely start, my dear. Are you _trying _to be unimpressive? _

The crowd stilled and waited expectantly, thousands of dark eyes staring up at her.

"Um."

_Bugger! Damn! Come on, Izayoi, you can do this! They're just people! Just humans! You've faced down demons without flinching! Just humans! _She looked behind her, caught a glimpse of dark red cloth and silver hair in the sliver of shoji left open. _Remember, you promised not to let them kill me, _she said silently to the motionless figure.

She turned back to the crowd, took a deep breath, and began. "My name is Ishihara Izayoi," she said simply. A few people nodded or bowed. "My brothers and sisters... I came here to speak to you today of a threat from the East."

All at once, the casual attention of the mass of people sharpened, and they began to truly listen.

"The demon lord of the East, Ryuunomei, has recently attempted to annihilate our brethren to the north of us. If he had succeeded with his plan, it would have killed tens of thousands. Thankfully, my companions and I were able to intervene and prevent this disaster a short while ago."

She paused, and could almost hear them holding their breath. Humans were communal creatures-- threats to some of them were usually seen as threats to all. "Though we managed to thwart to real disaster, the build up to it has slain most of those residing on the island of Shikoku to the east of you, and very many in the north end of your own fair land. The news should be arriving with the survivors very soon."

Cold silence.

"You may be thinking that he has given up after this failure. I tell you, it is not so. From personal experience, I can tell you that he will not be chastened so easily. He will try again, and there is nothing to guarantee that you will not be caught in the crossfire again. He is ruthless. He has no care for human life. Though his target is the Lord of the West, he hates all mortal folk and would not be overly concerned if his 'methods' destroy all human life in Nihon. In fact, if the cost in effort is not too much, he would go out of his way to use such a method."

She let her memories of Ryuunomei float across her mind's eye, lending terror to her voice. She knew him, knew him intimately, and knew exactly what he was capable of. There was not a word of untruth in anything she'd said. She remembered the bite of his claws and shuddered, her body still slave to her fear of him.

"And so, if you value your lives and those of your comrades to the north, you will not sit idly by and let this come to pass. After I am finished here, I go to the North to fight as best I can. If you wish, I would be honoured if you would come with me." She tried to sound like a hero, tried to fill her words with the bright allure of glory. But she was just a tired, wounded human woman who was doing the honourable thing, and so the words came out simple, clean, and honest instead.

She looked out over them, saw the truth of things dawning on them, and felt sorrowful. There were so many dead already. Images from Shikoku flashed across her eye and she flinched, desperately pushing away the visions of countless people lying sprawled wherever they'd finally succumbed to the over-saturation of mana . She saw the blood running from their eyes and noses and mouths, saw the deep bruises all over their bodies where the mana flow had overwhelmed their blood vessels and burst them. It was an ugly death, and there had been thousands of them. There had been children too, small golden bodies crumpled like rag dolls in pools of their own lifeblood.

There were tears stinging the backs of her eyes, and since there was no reason to hold them back, she let them spill hot and salty over her cheeks. "You will die, many of you," she said, "if you choose to follow. But not as many as will die if you don't.. I will not force you. Choose as you will."

She turned and walked off the dais to the shoji door. Inutaisho met her there, opened it for her. Once it was shut behind them, she turned to face him. "They're all going to die, aren't they."

"Not all. But very many, yes."

She sank to her knees and cried for a while then, face clasped in shaking hands. .

He watched, expressionless, until she was finished and standing up, drying her eyes on her sleeves.

"They're all going to die following me. I really hope this is worth it."

_They're all going to die, and it's going to be my fault. Terrible deaths. All my fault. _

"They would all die if they stayed. You did not lie."

"I know that!" she cried. "It doesn't help! This way... this way they'll..." she fell silent. _This way, they'll blame me. If he just killed them, taking them by surprise, they would blame him. _

"I know what you are thinking," he said coldly, "and it irritates me. Would you truly rather let them die unprepared without a _chance _at survival, rather than have them blame you?"

_Yes._

"No," she sobbed, lying, lying, lying.

"You know you are right. You spoke the truth. You should not feel guilt."

"I do, though."

His face hardened. "Deal with it. This is the lot of a leader."

Anger blossomed with a rapidity no flower had ever seen. She clenched her fists, digging her nails into her palms until the skin broke and bled. "Sometimes, I really hate you," she snapped.

"I can live with that. If I can deal with you hating me, do you think you can deal with a lot of people you do not even know hating you? What does their opinion matter to you?"

"I don't want to be hated." _I want to be loved. _

"If you lead well, they will not hate you. They will respect you, and thank you for the lives you saved."

"I don't want to lead anyone."

"It does not appear that you have much choice."

She whirled away from him, trying to shrink into her shoulders. "I hate this."

Footfalls behind her, almost inaudible. Then... hands on her shoulders.

"You did well," he said softly into her ear. "It took courage to do that, and you handled it admirably. The road ahead will be long and painful and frightening. But..." He turned her gently around to face him. She stared at him with tearful eyes large and pleading.

_Comfort me. Make me believe in myself. _

"But, I have seen your courage. It is enough for what it coming, and more."

She closed her eyes and, not caring if she made him angry, leaned into his chest and took what comfort she could from his solid strength. _Save me. Protect me._

He did not push her away. When her hands rose to entangle themselves in his haori, he made no move to stop her. He stood quietly and let her weep. "It is hard, I know. But you are strong. The circumstances will not defeat you." Her hands clenched tighter into the fabric.

"When you say things like that," she whispered against his chest, "I can almost believe you." _But I am still afraid. This is such a huge thing, and I'm so small. So very small. _

xxxxx

The man stood thunderstruck long after the rest of the crowd had departed in a frantic, chattering mass. Her shade was still there in his mind's eye, still standing quietly impassioned on that box above them, hair flying in the wind. Fire and grace. _Izayoi. _

How long had it been? _Six years. She'll be twenty-three now. Will she remember me, I wonder? Izayoi. _

He ran a hand through his long dark hair, trying to ignore the slight tremble in it.

She ran through his memory, a gap-toothed and cheerful child, and then a quiet, serious girl, and then at the end, a willful, strong young woman. _So beautiful. _That dark hair, billowing. He remembered the feel of it in his fingers, the cool silk of it. He remembered the gentle affection in her woodland eyes, remembered the sweet touch of her hand on his arm. The smell of her cooking, the colour her skin turned in sunset light. The way her eye used to twitch menacingly whenever she was irritated. The little mole on her left shoulderblade.

_Izayoi. _

It had been years, but had recognized her instantly. Last he had seen of her, she had been living at the demon's court, and there was a new sadness in her eyes that he had never seen before. She had thanked him, embraced him, and then walked away without another word. Since then, he'd been trying desperately to get in to see her, but he was always met at the gate and his messages taken from him before being turned away. Six long years since he'd last watched her walk away from him.

In those six years, he'd lost his liege lord and become a wandering warrior, and outcast mercenary. Somehow, from his home in the north-east, he'd managed to end up here on Kyushu, working under a man he respected more than anyone in the world... excepting her.

_Izayoi. I missed you so much. _

His feet began to walkon their own while he was still lost in thought, following the shadowed memory to the house she'd vanished into. _I_

_I'm coming, Izayoi._

xxxxx

There was a knock on the shoji frame. Izayoi tore herself away from Inutaisho's chest and wiped her eyes frantically.

"Who is it?" Gods, she still sounded half-strangled with tears.

Inutaisho faded into the shadows expertly, vanishing to all but the most discerning eye.

There was no answer. She walked over and opened the door as Inutaisho stood watchfully, on guard.

_I wonder who it is? Is Naruka finished shopping for supplies? I thought she was going to meet the others outside of town with them... why would she be here?_

The shoji slid open... onto memory. It hit her like a rockslide, and she almost collapsed. The man in the doorway was surrounded in flickering images from her childhood like clouds around the sun, and she could not assimilate it. Her hand on the door began to shake, and the rest of her followed soon after.

Those dark eyes... how she'd loved them. How hurt she'd been when he'd stopped coming to visit her. All those days in the sunshine, before the darkness began, all those warm nights curled up at the fire. This man. That boy. All the love she'd ever felt in her life for him came flooding back in a sweet, painful flood.

She'd been _so lonely. _All alone, with only Akira's occasional gift of a few hours and Ryuunomei's loving torment to keep her company. Six years ago, he'd come one last time. She was so full of pain from what her lord had just begun to do to her, she could hardly even look at him. And so she turned her back and walked away, and he had not come back again.

So lonely, for five years. How she'd longed to weep on his shoulder, so _many_ times as she'd bandaged her bleeding limbs and rubbed salve onto her throbbing bruises. There was no salve for her soul, her broken, bleeding heart. And he had not been there. Never there. She'd scared him away, and he had stopped coming to patch up the places she couldn't reach with her shaking hands.

But now, here he was, larger than life in her doorway, looking stronger and more beautiful even than her memory of him.

All the pain of the years before crushed her heart, and she remembered that she had loved him, once. Maybe still did. And he was here, now. Standing silent and patient in her doorway, waiting for her like he always had. He had always, always waited for her to catch up in their little games. Always been patient like this. Always been calm, a strong place to lie when she'd forgotten which way the world turned.

The years vanished, and in her mind, she stopped her seventeen-year-old self as she walked away that last time, turned her around to walk back to him instead.

"Takemaru," she gasped, and threw herself into his waiting arms.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Human-form depictions of Ryuukossei can still be found at **Vega Sailor**'s DeviantART page, last I checked. Some of the credit for his design goes to her.

Thanks for reading!


	16. Taichou!

**A/N: **Be warned, Takemaru haters: he plays a large role in this story, and won't be going away any time soon. His role is also not entirely negative, as I am somewhat sympathetic to him despite him being an idiot. I won't tolerate character-bashing in reviews.

Thank you, and enjoy the chapter!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XVI: Taichou!**_

**xxxxx**

Everything was falling apart around her. For a bright, eternal second, she'd thought that maybe, _maybe_ this time everything would be all right at last. She'd fallen into him as though she'd never left, and the tilted world had corrected itself on its skewed axis back to true. His arms around her had felt like coming home, and all was beautiful and perfect. For one second.

And then, he'd spotted Inutaisho-- half-cloaked in shadow, yellow eyes gleaming. And the world was thrown sickeningly off-kilter again, and this time it was a thousand times worse for the return of memory. She now remembered what it was like to be happy, and so when he abruptly tore himself away from her it hurt far, far more than it had before.

"Mononoke," Takemaru hissed, beautiful face twisted with red hatred. His hand, white-knuckled and shaking with fury, seized the hilt of his sword and was halfway through drawing when Inutaisho moved.

She closed her eyes, convinced she'd died and fallen into hell. Inutaisho would kill him, and her world would truly fall to pieces, in an non-mendable and decidedly agonizing way. It was over, the brief flash of happiness. Misery was back, to stay.

Inutaisho's form blurred and vanished from the corner. Takemaru's eyes snapped wide in shock and flitted around the room, searching for the hated demon. _Clank._ He froze, then looked slowly down at the gleaming, half-melted section of blade on the floor. There was a slow hiss as the bottom third of his sword slid back into the scabbard, and the hilt dropped from his nerveless fingers.

"You are something to Izayoi," Inutaisho's utterly flat voice said from, unexpectedly, behind Takemaru. The samurai's forehead broke out in a cold sweat. "That is why you are alive. The only reason."

The shoji slid open and closed, and Inutaisho was gone. Takemaru stared straight ahead, trembling with shock.

Izayoi fell helplessly to her knees, dropped her head to the cool floor, and poured her entire being into thanks to the gods that were watching over her. No one was dead. Takemaru was not dead. The gods were alive and listening.

By all rights, Inutaisho should have killed him. He'd drawn a sword on him, without provocation, with obvious intent to kill. It would have been self-defense, and no one would have argued even had they wanted to. The sheer folly of it! Drawing on a daiyoukai, strongest of the strong! She wondered if he understood how lucky he was to be alive.

_Probably not._

And then, after gratitude and relief... anger, the likes of which she'd never known before. It seized her and made of her gentle flesh something fell and fearful. She stood, fists clenched at her sides, and stalked over to Takemaru. He did not seem to see her, staring vacantly off into spaces, pupils contracted. She sucked in a deep breath, drew back, and slapped him with all her archer's strength. He staggered, fell, and caught himself on his hands.

"Idiot!" she screamed, incandescent with fury. "Fool! Thrice-cursed son of a maggot!"

"Iza...yoi..." he whispered, not understanding, which only made her angrier.

"Don't you understand? He might have killed you. He might even have been right to do so! What gave you the right to walk around threatening my allies? Well?"

That got his attention. His head snapped up and his eyes assaulted hers, cold and alien. "Ally?" he asked softly. "You would contaminate yourself by consorting with such filth?"

Her eyes bugged. If she got any angrier, she thought she'd burst along the seams and splatter all over the room. It was a live thing, a ravening monster that wanted to rend and tear and batter. "Filth?" she shrieked, and slapped him again, even harder. Her hand burst into stars of white pain, but she paid it no mind. "You've only just met him! How dare you presume to judge? How dare you?"

"I don't need to know him," he growled irritably, comforting his swollen jaw. "He is mononoke. That is all I need to know."

She stared at him in disbelief at his narrow-mindedness. "He saved your life," she whispered. "Saved my life. Saved the lives of the children. He journeys now to save thousands more. On what authority do you judge him?"

"You take his side?" he asked, incredulous. "Him, youkai filth?"

It was the wrong thing to say, and he seemed to realize it a split second too late. The words had already left his lips. The next blow was the hardest yet, and dealt with a closed fist. She felt the bones grate beneath her knuckles when she connected with his cheek. "I am not taking 'sides'!" she howled. "I am attempting to demonstrate to you how much of an idiot you're being! Inutaisho is a good man. I don't know what you think gives you the right to waltz in and draw your sword on him without even a courteous 'hello', but it it not acceptable! Try it again, and I'll kill you myself!"

He lowered his dark head, hair falling to shadow his eyes. "I see. So that is how it is." Without saying another word, he unfolded to his feet-- slightly unsteady-- and walked out. Her eyes burned tearfully into his stiff retreating back.

"Idiot," she whispered brokenly. So. She'd managed to chase him away again. In the depths of her heart, she wondered if she'd ever see him again, and thought it likely that she wouldn't.

Stretching out on the floor, she pressed her cheek to the cool tatamis and tried not to think about it. In a few minutes, she'd get up and go find Inutaisho. She'd apologize, and hope for his forgiveness. And then the journey would continue as though six years ago had really been the last she'd seen of her beautiful, dark-eyed warrior.

"Takemaru," she wept into the floor, mourning the almost-happiness she'd so briefly glimpsed. Her legs curled into her chest and she began to cry in earnest, tears dripping silver and warm into her hair.

In all honesty, she was perfectly set up for a really good pity party, something she hadn't had in quite a long while now. The universe, however, had other plans.

There was a knock at the shoji. She stiffened, remembering the last such knock. It wasn't him, she could tell that much. It was more aloof, authoritative and strong. Inutaisho would not knock. This was a stranger.

For the second time within an hour, she pulled her tear-riven self together and got ready to deal with the world again. "Come in."

The shoji slid open and the stranger walked in.

He was a samurai, that much was blindingly obvious. His uniform was identical to Takemaru's, but all resemblance ended there.

He was tall. That was the first thing that struck her. His head was scant inches from the roof, and he had to duck to enter. He had at least a good two inches even on Inutaisho, who was tall for a demon. His hair was shimmering black and long, brushing the middle of his back. And his eyes, when she met them, were warm brown like almonds. The sword that swung at his hip looked a part of him, just an extra limb.

"Hello!" he boomed jovially, smiling down at her.

"Er..." she began, unsure what to make of this stranger who towered over her and smiled so beautifully.

"Your name is Ishihara Izayoi, correct?" he interrupted.

She nodded mutely.

"Good. I am Yamaguchi Katsuro. Ever so pleased to make your acquaintance"

"Likewise," she replied, caught off guard. "Er..."

"You're smaller than you looked up on that stand," he commented, seemingly oblivious to her current state of mental disarray.

"Um..."

"Where does this demon lord live? My men are ready to go, Izayoi-hime."

"Hime? Princess? Since when?"

He looked at her, baffled. "You're not a princess?"

"No!"

He stroked his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. That won't do at all. Well! From now on, you are Izayoi-hime. To my men, at least."

"What? I don't... please, what are you talking about?"

"We're marching to war, aren't we? With you at the head! It wouldn't be right to follow anyone but royalty, and if you're not... well, you'll just have to be for now. My men won't follow a commoner."

"Your... men?" she whispered faintly.

"Of course! Didn't I tell you? Yamaguchi-taichou, of the free army of the South. I will follow you to avenge the deaths of my friends on Shikoku. But you've got to start looking a little more inspiring, else morale will plummet."

"Yamaguchi... taichou? Captain? Free army? What?"

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "I am Yamaguchi Katsuro, leader of a great army of displaced samurai and bounty hunters. The Free Army! We fight for no lord, only to protect the weak! We will follow you to the stronghold of this... Ryuunomei... and defeat him, in the name of our friends who have perished! Is this clear enough?"

For a long moment, she only stared at him, dumbstruck. Of all the pretentious, overblown...

"Er! Yes! Thank you! Um, welcome? Thank you?"

He beamed at her, and dropped gracefully to one knee. Even so bent, he was nearly as tall as her. "Glad to be of service, my lady princess." He stood and bowed formally, hands pressed together. "Where to next?"

"We haven't really decided yet..."

"Tch! So disorganized! With your permission, I can handle this. Recruiting is my specialty!"

_Does that mean no more speeches? Done!_

"Um, sure?"

"Good!" He paused, and looked around as though searching for something he'd dropped. "Have you seen recruit Takemaru? I could have sworn he went ahead to say hello to you."

She went rigid. So this was Takemaru's superior. She'd heard a while ago that his lord had died heirless, leaving him adrift, and that he'd found employment in the south under a renegade warrior of great renown. It seemed she'd just met the 'renowned warrior.' "He left," she whispered, and though she tried not to let the pain leak into her voice, she knew the instant the words hit the air that she'd failed miserably.

He sighed and crossed his arms, the very image of a long-suffering parent. If she hadn't been hurting so badly, it might have been funny. "What's my errant underling done now?" he muttered to himself. "I swear, if that boy wasn't so damn good with a sword, I'd have smacked him one good by now."

She laughed helplessly. "He came. Then he... did something stupid, and left."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Left... after I beat the tar out of him," she admitted, to his uproarious laughter.

A moment later, she was caught off guard as he swept her into a bone-crushing hug. "I like you, Izayoi-hime! I think we'll get along just fine." He released her, and she gratefully sucked in a great lungful of air.

_Ouch._

"Well then!" he exclaimed brightly. "Shall we go find the little idiot?" Turning a smart about-face, he made as if to leave.

"Wait!" she cried.

"Yes, hime-sama?"

"Stop calling me that. If you're going to be traveling with me, there's a few people you should meet."

"I thought so!" he boomed.

"What?"

"I didn't think you would be traveling by yourself. I think I understand what happened, now."

"You do?" she echoed, confounded. He moved so quickly, she was hard-pressed to keep up!

"Oh, yes. Let me guess... Takemaru, the little idiot, showed up here all glad to see you. I'm willing to bet my right arm that one of your companions was here with you when he showed up, and my other one that it was a demon. Am I right so far?"

She nodded, speechless.

"Then, Setsuna flew off the handle and tried to dice your companion into little pieces. Since you made no indication that he's dead, and neither do you seem upset about a companion's death, so I'm assuming your demon friend held back and left him alive. Then, you tore up one side of him and down the other for assaulting one of your allies. How am I doing?"

"Were you hiding in a closet, or what?" she asked dizzily. "Exactly right."

"Hmm. Not surprising. Takemaru holds a deep hatred for all demons, and I suppose I can understand it even if it is narrow-minded and completely unjust. You see, when I picked him up three years ago, he was lounging around a forest still covered in the blood of his family. He'd been visiting them when a marauding horde came through and annihilated the village. He escaped, but was unable to save anyone. Since then, he's decided that all demons are evil and deserve to die, irrespective of the truth."

She was silent for a long time, absorbing that and sorrowing deeply. She only faintly remembered his family, but what memories she had were warm and positive. All dead, before his very eyes. "I guess I can understand, too, then. But Inutaisho is not evil, and they'd only just met. I was very angry at his hostility. Inutaisho could have killed him in an eyeblink, but he pulled his sword anyways. I thought he was being stupid," she finished regretfully.

Katsuro clapped her on the shoulder. "He was, don't feel bad about it. Not all demons are scum, most thinking people are smart enough to realize that. It's not your fault he's an idiot, and I'm quite impressed that you were courageous enough to put him straight. You're so small, I would've thought yelling at a bloody great warrior would not seem wise."

She blushed. "We've been friends since we were children. I was not afraid of that."

He chuckled warmly. "I see. Well, then. I'll go find him and you go find your demon. I'll meet you on the outskirts of town, at the gate. Later!" He waved cheerily, and when she blinked he was gone.

_Interesting character, _she mused._ I wonder where Inutaisho went?_

She spread her mind's wings open and felt around for the dog demon.

He was not hard to locate.

"Interesting character," he commented as he stepped back into the room from the other door.

Her cheeks flushed instantly scarlet, and her face burned. "You were listening."

"Mmm."

"Oh, spirits," she muttered.

"I must say, I was rather touched at your display of loyalty. And rather glad not to be on the receiving end."

"Oh, spirits!" she repeated desperately, wishing they would hear her and let her sink into the floor and vanish forever.

"I did not know you had such a temper."

Damn him to the deepest, slimy ditch of Hell, he was amused. Amused!

"He had it coming," she snapped. "Are you coming?"

"Oh, I am not arguing that. And yes, I am coming. We had better rescue him, he is headed in the wrong direction to find the boy."

"Good," she barked, and stalked off.

Behind her, Inutaisho did not move for a few moments. "Thank you," he said quietly to her back. Despite his earlier ribbing, he truly had been touched by her fiery defense of his honor. _What did I do to deserve such a faithful ally?_

"Are you coming, or not?"

Her voice jolted him back into motion. He used his demon speed to slip past her into the hallway ahead. She was still looking behind her at the open door of the room. "What are you talking about? Have you lost your imaginary friend?"

She snapped around and was good enough to wear a look of startlement when she found him in the hallway when she'd seen him just a second ago in the room behind her.

"Someday, you have to teach me how to do that."

"If you behave."

xxxxx

Night had flown overhead, trailing its star-studded cloak, and the woods were dark. They sat in a circle around a campfire, warding off the chill of autumn as best as they could. The eight of them, and Ah-Un, who did not count.

"Well, you certainly are an odd bunch," Katsuro said. "Two daiyoukai, a priestess, two lower level demons, and a seer. Very curious. You'll have to tell me how this came about."

"Long story," Naruka answered gravely. "But we will tell you as we travel, of course. May I say..." she hesitated, eyes averted, "that your help is greatly appreciated?" She wrung her hands and lowered her head.

_Is it my imagination_, Izayoi thought with fascination, _or is she blushing?_

The general did not seem to notice her discomfiture, only beamed at her. "Of course! I am flattered by your thanks, my lady miko. I look forward to traveling with you all. I can see that it will be an interesting trip."

"You can say that again," Sakenmaru dryly remarked to no one in particular.

"So... with your permission, I will begin recruiting immediately. I have contacts all over the country who I'm fairly certain will be willing to help, once they hear of the situation. Isn't it strange that no one had any idea that all this was happening in the north!"

"Not really strange, no," Naruka answered again. "This is demon business, us humans would not likely get word of it until we're right in the thick of it."

"Hmm, I suppose you're right. In any case, we know now and we're not going to let it go on without resistance. Demon or no, nobody gets away with slaughtering my people." The tone of his voice made it clear that by 'his people,' he meant all of humanity, not just the southerners.

He seemed to like saying heroic things like that. She found it endearing, somehow, his blustering enthusiasm. When she looked deeper, she could see it for what it really was-- a facade, that invariably caused people to underestimate him. She had a suspicion that once it got into a battle situation, he would be deadly serious, and had a brief vision of his face hard and uncompromising, splattered with enemy blood, eyes glinting in the red steel-light of battle. It was frightening, and Izayoi thanked the gods that he was on their side rather than against them.

"Well then! Enough of all this glumness!" he cried, startling them. "It has come to my attention..." he paused, presumably for dramatic effect, "that you are all a group of unfairly beautiful people."

Inutaisho snorted and cocked an eye at Jaken, who was gazing in adoration at the tall human.

"Excepting the toad, and the lizard," he hastily corrected. Jaken's face crumpled.

"Dragon," Izayoi corrected automatically. "Ah-Un is a type of dragon youkai, not a lizard."

"I stand... er, sit... corrected, hime-sama."

"Don't call me that."

"I'll have you know that among my people, I am considered very attractive!" Jaken wailed.

"Unfortunately, your people are all a very long ways away from here," Inutaisho reminded him.

"You do not find my countenance pleasing? My lord!" Great silvery tears poured down the bubbled, lumpy green face of the toad.

"No," Inutaisho replied indifferently.

"My lord!" he wailed again, and fled the camp noisily blowing his nose. For a few blessed seconds, there was silence but for the crackling of the fire.

"There is somewhere I need to go," Inutaisho blurted then, completely without warning. "It would be fastest if I went alone. I should be back by morning." With that, he stood and made as if to fly off.

Thrown off balance by his sudden announcement, she stuttered for a second before finding her voice. "Inutaisho!" she cried.

He paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"Er."

His eyebrow raised inquiringly.

She squared her shoulders. "Go safely, and come safely," she said, her traditional family travel blessing. His eyes widened, just a fraction, and he nodded. A white blur, and then he was gone.

"I wonder where he's going?" she asked the wind softly.

"I don't know," Sakenmaru said, and was echoed by Naruka and the general.

Jaken, who could have told them, was sulking in the woods and heard nothing.

xxxxx

The mountain looked as fierce as it ever had, snowless even at its great craggy peak, kept free of ice by the inferno in its heart. The land around it was cracked and dead. About halfway up was the cave, and Inutaisho made for that. There was a thin trail of smoke curling out of the black maw, a telltale sign that the person he'd come to see was home. Not that he would ever be anywhere else.

Good.

He landed lightly on the ledge protruding from the forbidding black mountainside, and walked in without calling. The old man would know he was here, he knew. Knocking was pointless.

He was not disappointed. "Youngster!" a dry, whipcord voice cried out of the redlit depths of the cave. "Long time, no see!"

"Toutousai," Inutaisho replied respectfully.

"Inutaisho-samaaaahhh!" another voice cried joyously.

"Myouga-jiji!" He was surprised. That the flea demon had taken up residence here was not something he'd known. The minuscule demon was older even that him, as was the ancient swordsmith, who was, by the sounds of it, currently beating the living hell out of some poor, innocent lump of metal.

He waited patiently.

A few minutes later, the bug-eyed firebreathing old man tottered out of the smoky inferno of his forge, dusting his hands on his tattered kimono. "Well now! To what fortuitous occasion do I owe this great pleasure?"

Inutaisho did not mince words. "Where are they? I need them."

"Tch, not even staying for tea? How rude of you," the elderly demon cackled.

"Totosai..." Inutaisho growled warningly. He was fond of the old blacksmith, but now was not the time for banter. If he was to be back by dawn, there was no time to waste.

"Right, right! I'm going! Hang on just a minute. Youth these days, so impatient."

It was an exaggeration-- Totosai was only a few hundred years older than Inutaisho, but he exploited that small difference ruthlessly whenever he had the chance. Little delighted him more in the wide world than Inutaisho's irritated reaction whenever Totosai reminded him of his seniority.

Inutaisho tapped his fingers impatiently on his arm. It was a long flight, and since he wanted to be back with his companions by dawn, the faster he got what he came for, the better. The doddering old man was holding him up.

Long minutes passed.

"What did you do, forget which pool of lava you dropped it in?" he growled when Toutousai finally returned.

"Old joints, don't move like they used to," Totosai half-apologized in an offhand manner. "Here you are. Hope you're not planning anything stupid."

Inutaisho snatched the bundles out of Totosai's arms. "Many thanks. I will be back to return them to your care when this is all over."

"Don't you dare put a scratch on either of them! The one is my best work, and the other was his, curse his name. Speaking of which, when are you going to commission the last one?"

"When I decide what its purpose is. Do not push me."

Totosai withdrew hurriedly, arms flailing. "Wouldn't dream of it, my lord. I trust you to come to me with it when you've decided. I look forward to forging it."

Inutaisho did not reply to that, instead pulling off the deep black cloth covering the two long packages.

They were swords, and very beautiful swords at that. The one on the left was crafted from the hard substance of his own fang, and the other was constructed of something similar, but from another demon. He brushed his hands lovingly over them. "Tenseiga," he murmured, touching the plainer one, and "Sou'unga," when his fingers alighted on the powerful longsword with its bulbous pommel set with a nameless red stone. "It has been a very long time."

The swords were legendary. Tenseiga, the sword of heaven, was said to be able to save a hundred people in one swing. He'd never tried it, not even on Mai. Altering the determinations of fate was not a thing to be toyed with lightly. It had been Mai's time, he had known that even in the depths of grief. But it might be useful in the war ahead. He would pay whatever price was required if it meant winning this.

And Sou'unga, sword of Hell. Said to be able to slay a hundred at one blow. Its dead became moldering undead, slave to the wielder's will. It was a hideous thing, and he hated using it. Even now, it pulsed eagerly in his hand, anticipating blood to slake its ravening thirst.

Someday, he would commission the last sword of the trio, the sword of earth. He already knew its name, but not what power it should have. Tenseiga, he had commissioned for his son, to teach him compassion. Possibly a futile exercise, but Inutaisho hoped nonetheless. Sou'unga had come to him already made, and he accepted it in order to defeat his age old enemy. It was more than fitting, calling on it now. This was what it had been born for. It sang for Ryuunomei's blood, and he did not intend to deny it.

He turned to leave. "I will return, Toutousai. Perhaps by then I will know what the last sword is for."

"I sincerely hope so, my lord. I am not getting any younger."

"So I have noticed."

"Impudent boy!"

Inutaisho smiled, nodded his head, and vanished into the starlit night.

"Be careful, boy," Toutousai muttered behind him, unheard. "Don't die."

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	17. Umeboshi Insanity

**A/N: **This chapter is rather... sappy. I wrote it for Valentine's day.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XVII: Umeboshi Insanity**_

**xxxxx**

The flight back to camp was exactly four hours, seventeen minutes, and eight seconds too long. The flight itself was ten seconds longer than that. This was because ten seconds after launching from Toutousai's mountain home, he'd finally lost the battle he'd been fighting since he'd left the warm circle of firelight and the warmer circle of friends.

The four hours to Toutousai's lair, he'd managed to keep the needling images at bay by counting trees and making war plans. But now, he'd run out of inane things to think about and the door was open.

It was completely irrational. Totally, utterly unreasonable. Every word he could think of to describe what he was feeling, he thought of and discarded as not forceful enough. It was _wrong._

What he should be was happy, or at least relieved. Izayoi had finally found a human person to lavish her affections on. Her little obsession with him would be shunted off to the boy, and he would be free of obligation at last. The situation was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Which was why it made no sense that for the last half of the night, he'd been struggling desperately against the vicious urge to dice Setsuna no Takemaru into gory ribbons and take a long, luxurious bath in his steaming blood. His claws were buried deep in the fleshy part of his palm, where'd they'd apparently taken up permanent residence.

As though Time itself was broken inside his mind, he saw the moment endlessly, over and over again.

She pulled away from his chest, wiping her tearstained face.

She opened the door.

She recognized the person on the other side...

After that, his recollection became tinged in red, as she flung herself in slow-motion at the yet unseen figure with all the frustrated, mortally passionate love she'd been burying deeper and deeper the whole time she'd been with him.

And then, always at that point, Time froze for a moment to afford him a good, long look at the tableau. Her arms thrown around the boy's shoulders in wanton abandonment. His arms circling her protectively. How absolutely perfect they looked together, like a fabled romance brought to life.

It was all just as it should be. So, he should be happy. No more uncomfortable moments of knowing she was looking at him with growing attraction. No more even _more_ uncomfortable moments of returning the attraction. She'd be neatly paired up with someone so right for her it seemed the gods had possibly had a hand in it.

And so, it was massively disconcerting to admit that he was _not _happy. Not in any sense of the word. In fact, he had not been this patently _un_happy since Mai had died. In fact, if he was truthful with himself, he was utterly miserable.

Somewhere along their short journey, she'd wormed her way into his heart in such a way that he had not even noticed, and now the thought of her draping herself all over that _whelp_...

His claws were now in serious danger of puncturing all the way through his hands and erupting out the backs. The pain was probably very great, but Inutaisho could not be bothered to notice.

For absolutely no rational reason he could come up with despite hours of thought, Inutaisho had decided that he hated Setsuna no Takemaru with almost _human_ passion.

Inutaisho had come to respect Izayoi very much, and truly wanted the best for her. However, as a demon, somewhere he'd come up with the belief that no human man could ever be good enough for her. He had not, of course, ever considered _himself_ as a match for her. That was too ridiculous to give more than a moment's thought to. But the fact remained that Takemaru was not worthy of her. Seeing him wrap himself around like that had nearly been more that Inutaisho could stand.

_I do not understand. _

She was no one, just a random human who he'd ended up traveling with through a series of exceedingly strange circumstances. Nobody. But she was a damned _exceptional _nobody.

_Sweat-sheened limbs tangled in the moonlight, the gentle labored effort of breath. Dark hair tangled on white silk. Skin flushed rosy in the aftermath of passion._

Inutaisho strangled a howl in his throat. He could feel the markings on his skin growing jagged, crawling their indigo way across his cheekbones, his wrists. Felt the wrathful deity that was his true form rage for release, barely managed to hold it in check.

_Dark eyes hooded with desire, pale fingers drifting over a contoured landscape of flesh. Lips parted sensuously to release an inheld breath with an ecstatic sigh. Movement, like waves and as slow, ebbing and flowing and cresting and breaking. Murmurings of endearment, softly alighting in ears like silver butterflies._

He was going mad with irrational jealousy, and could see no way around it. He could not let her go, and had no intention of taking her for himself. It was a trap that caught both ways, and he was firmly snared in its steely teeth.

She was not his. But neither could he stand the thought of her being anyone else's.

_The moon looked down, and saw silver hair entwined with dark. Skin stained dark in primal markings, eyes bleeding red with the effort of restraint. Cool flesh and burning hot pressed together, slipsliding tongues. _

Inutaisho nearly fell out of the sky. This was a place he had never dreamed of going, yet even as he shredded the astounding image and buried it as far undermind as he could, a new one surfaced.

_A cry, half bitten-back, strangled and disbelieving at the newfound pleasure. Silver tears of joy and fulfillment standing in the corners of eyes deep as forests. Devotion seeping from every pore along with the sweat. Gentle arms around his neck, sweetest offering of trust. _

Sweat stood on his forehead. Why was he tormented by such visions? Why did every line of his body ache so? She was nothing compared to Mai. Nothing. And yet...

...the lust he felt now, the trembling as every muscle strained towards something unattainable...

...was like nothing he'd ever felt with Mai. With a cry, he plummeted and submerged himself beneath the icy waters of the first stream he could find. He remained there for a long time, until the fire in his loins subsided and the fog behind his eyes cleared. Until the markings on his wrists returned to normal and he felt enough in control to surface.

Dripping wet, cold, and humilated, he resumed the journey home in a very grim mood. He'd made a decision, beneath the calming rush of the stream's waters-- Takemaru had to go. No matter that Inutaisho would not be claiming Izayoi for himself-- his presence was simply not tolerable, and so he would be leaving as soon as Inutaisho returned.

Whether he wanted to or not.

xxxxx

As it turned out, Takemaru, as though in unconscious obedience to Inutaisho's unspoken command, was far, far away when the disturbed inuyoukai returned to the campsite. Coincidentally, his mind-state was in equal disarray. The discovery that his beloved friend and love interest had a soft spot for demons had quite a negative impact on his composure, and he was currently working it off in exhaustive _kata _exercises back at the barracks. When Inutaisho flew over him, he was too busy picturing the silver head beneath his sword to notice the silver head above his sword.

And Inutaisho was too busy hating him to notice that he was being hated right back.

xxxxx

He landed like a sack of rocks, too distracted to notice that the ground was closer than he'd originally thought. Izayoi stood up to greet him eagerly, a smile on her face.

All the composure he'd painstakingly jury-rigged in the last hour of the flight while his clothes dried shuddered and collapsed when she laid a hand on his arm and asked with genuine curiosity if he'd had a safe journey.

He looked at her despite all his honest efforts not to, and--

_--white silk and black silk, bedsheets and black locks, gentle gasps of ecstasy in his ear--_

_--_felt his eyes bleeding dangerously red. He turned away with a jerk.

"The flight was fine, thank you. Why are you awake so early?"

She laid a slender finger on her lips (_parted in rapture, moist from the languid dance of tongues) _and blushed becomingly (_all the way down to that little shiny stretch of skin between her breasts_). "I haven't slept, actually," she admitted. "I waited up."

"You waited for me to return? I was gone all night."

"That's kind of obvious, since it's morning now," she pointed out.

"That was foolish. I told you I would not be back until morning. Now you will be tired all day and slow us up."

He could see without looking the hurt expression on her face and forced himself not to care.

"If you must know, I tried to sleep."

_What?_

"I only gave up a few hours ago when it became clear that I couldn't sleep until... until I knew you were safe. If I'd known you were going to be in such a bad mood when you came back, I wouldn't have worried!"

_Worried... for me. _

"I'm glad you're back. Though I can't for the life of me understand _why _I'm glad."

It was an eerie echo of his own thoughts, and he started. _I am glad to be with you on this journey, though I know not why. _

"I am sorry," he said absently. "I am a little distracted right now. Thank you for your concern."

He laid down and tried to salvage the last hour between him and dawn. Behind him, he heard her join him on the ground, a chaste ten feet away. It took her bare moments to fall into a deep, steady rhythm.

_She was exhausted. Foolish woman. _

After a few minutes, he realized that sleep was not going to pay any attention to him tonight, so he rolled over and watched the others sleep.

By 'others', his brain meant 'Izayoi'. She was tidily curled on a blanket, feet drawn up into the wide bottoms of her hakamaand hands buried in the folds of her haori_. _In direct contrast to the orderliness of her limbs, her hair and clothes spread messily around her, a beautiful sort of chaos.

Long dark lashes. Delicate ears like seashells. Cheeks rosy with the cold, a little travel-begrimed. Her clothes were stained with mud and dirt and nameless things that are inevitable when one travels. Undoubtedly, she was longing for a bath. Perhaps he could find a hotspring nearby...

..._droplets of spray caught in the gossamer web of her hair. Sun gleaming on the flesh exposed above the dark water, nipples pale and pebbled where the cold wind caressed them..._

Alarmed, he tore his thoughts away. If she wanted a hotspring, she could damned well find one herself.

She shifted in her sleep, and made a sound so low and quiet any human would have missed it completely. His traitorous imagination shifted the sound to a scene in which she made in while sleeping curled against his side, utterly sated and dreaming of him.

With a low groan, he surrendered and fled.

xxxxx

"Where's Inutaisho gone to now?" Izayoi asked when she woke at last mid-morning.

Silence.

She looked around. Naruka shrugged, genuinely unaware. Jaken sat on a log, eyes streaming with hurt at the abandonment. Katsuro looked mightily puzzled, and when at last she came to Sakenmaru, she found him desperately trying not to howl with laughter.

"Sakenmaru-sama? Do you know?"

The lion nodded, beard quivering. He obviously did not trust himself to speak. She crinkled her brow. "Where is he?"

"Sitting fully clothed in a stream five minutes away from here," Katsuro answered, seemingly hoping she would understand the logic.

She didn't. "Sitting in a stream...? What in hell is he up to now?"

Sakenmaru gave up and howled with laughter, beating his feet against the log he sat on.

She stood, stretched, and rearranged herself. "I'm going to bring him back. I'll be back in a few minutes."

xxxxx

His skin had gone completely numb about an hour ago. There was a rime of ice on the edges of the rocky streambed, and the water moved quite quickly. He sat cross legged and contemplated the virtues of pickled plums as a riceball stuffing. When he exhausted that, he moved on to an inner debate over how to best eviscerate a traitorous underling. That kept him occupied up until Izayoi came to fetch him.

"Inutaisho, what on earth are you doing?"

He looked up at her, movements made sluggish by the extreme cold. "Meditating," he answered evenly.

"On what?" she asked skeptically, arms crossed. She looked stunning in the morning mist.

"_Umeboshi," _he answered dreamily.

"Pickled plums? Why the...? Never mind. Come on, I'm not sure what happened to you but you need to get out of that water before you catch your death."

"Demons don't get sick."

That didn't even give her pause. "I don't care _what _species you are, sitting for hours in frigid water is not good for your health. Get out here."

Obediently, he uncurled himself and trudged his sodden way out onto the banks.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, awed by the monumental idiocy of his actions.

"I am insane," he answered with perfect equanimity, and began to walk unsteadily towards the campsite.

After standing stock still for a moment in astonishment, she caught up to him and wrapped her arms around one of his to help him walk straight. He shuddered under her hands. She was warmer than him, now, and he remembered being repelled by the coolness of her flesh. That was gone now.

The visions earlier had revealed a possibility of pleasure in how cold her skin was-- it must feel exquisite against his own superheated flesh.

"You're freezing," she murmured. "You're such an idiot."

_Yes._

"What's happened to you?"

"Is the whelp gone?" he asked, instead of answering. "Permanently?"

"You mean Takemaru?" She laughed a little. "Yes, he won't be coming with us. He'll be traveling northwards with the army. You don't have to worry about waking up to his sword at your throat. Just so you know, Katsuro-san was extremely angry with him about his behaviour back there."

Inutaisho couldn't possibly have cared less about the whelp trying to kill him. He was a mosquito-- the amount of noise he would make coming in for the sting would completely ruin his chances at actually drawing blood. Inutaisho had nothing to fear from that.

What he feared was losing Izayoi to him. Not that he 'had' Izayoi to begin with, or wanted to. She was simply too good for Takemaru, and that was it.

xxxxx

Izayoi blushed like _fire. _She'd done this countless times when the villagers had come to her for healing, and not turned a hair at it. But this was different. Very, very different.

Inutaisho had managed to freeze his fingers so badly he could not undo the ties of his own clothing. That he needed to get in to dry clothing was not a question, and so somehow, he had to extricate himself from the wet ones. That had proven impossible with his numb fingers, and so the job had fallen to Izayoi.

To preserve modesty, more hers than his, she'd dragged him off into the shelter of the trees once she'd dug out his spare outfit.

That had been the easy part. Now, he was looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to disrobe him. She was shaking and blushing so hard she thought she'd spontaneously combust.

"Er."

"Is there a problem? If you like, I will simply let my clothing dry while I wear it. It does not bother me."

Resolutely, she shook her head. "No way are you staying in those clothes. Even if you are a demon, it's not true that demons never get sick. If you weaken yourself enough, you'll fall ill. I've seen it in my demon friends."

He'd almost forgotten her upbringing among demons. She was right, of course- he was teetering on the brink of illness. The flight back, sodden and flying into the wind, had greatly weakened him, and sitting for hours in that bloody stream had brought him dangerously close to succumbing. The last thing he needed was to fall ill, and so he submitted to her humiliating treatment.

Which was now in great danger of becoming something considerably more dangerous.

With shaking fingers, she undid the cord that bound his _haori _in place. It fell open, and he felt the wind against his suddenly bare chest.

She turned yet another deeper shade of red. He smiled at her discomfiture. With his demonic sense of modesty, this was not disturbing him in that way. It was, however, disturbing him rather a lot in quite a different way.

The damp fabric slid off his broad shoulders onto the ground with a little help from her fingers, skimming across his chest. He went quietly insane again.

_How many needles on that tree, I wonder? _

_That cloud looks rather like a rabbit chewing its own foot off._

_I have a sudden craving for yellow pickles. _

_It is cold outside._

_Izayoi is undressing me_.

_Izayoi _was _undressing _him.

He desperately wished to be back in the cold, cold water. He was in serious danger of disgracing himself if she went any further than that.

In order to not go any madder than he already was, Inutaisho made a decision.

_Just for today... I will allow myself to desire her. Just today. Until I regain my senses. _

Unfortunately, the concession did nothing for the current situation. He reached down and caught her trembling fingers as they fumbled at his _hakama _ties. She looked dumbly up at him, scarlet from head to toe.

"I think my fingers are quite recovered. You may desist."

"Thank the gods," she whispered under her breath, though of course he heard it. "I'll leave the rest to you, then. I'll go back and get the fire started."

She fled, and he slowly finished the job she'd started so devastatingly. The dry clothing rasped against his skin unpleasantly. He was not cold anymore. His skin was afire where her fingers has glanced, and everywhere else as well. When he tied the dry _hakama _on, he was very thankful for the bagginess of their black folds.

_What has she done to me?_

Somehow, Takemaru's arrival had shown him exactly where Izayoi stood with him, and vice versa. Everything had changed-- instead of the discomfort disappearing, it had intensified. Being around her was sheer torment, now, where it never had been before.

Because he wanted her. Because he'd _admitted _to himself that he wanted her. Was there any way to undo that admission? Not that he could find. He was good and stuck now.

No way out.

In the next few minutes, he was going to have to return to that campsite and look her in the face... and somehow manage to _not _do any of the thousand things he'd seen in his visions earlier. How he would keep himself from doing them was a question that invariably was answered with a large, insulting blank.

The world as he knew it was ending. Had probably been ending since he first smelled that impossibly alluring field of flowers in her hair. Since she'd shown up at the door to his home with a message that would save his life, exhausted from the grueling three day ride. Since she danced for him in a cave, drunken and beautiful. Since she'd stood in the middle of a spring, fully clothed and weeping, and made him feel inferior for the first time in his life. And certainly since he'd seen her show love to another man, and discovered jealousy. The world as he'd known it was long done and gone.

He finished tying everything in place and went back to face his new existence, and prayed the humiliation wouldn't hurt too much.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N:**

**P.S.- **parts of this chapter are dedicated to **mikkey hodge. **You know which parts, Mikkey. :)


	18. Green Eyes

**A/N: **Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XVIII: Green Eyes**_

**xxxxx**

Bokuseno had seen many things in his centuries of life. A few more years, and he could legitimately begin to count his time in millennia. It had been a long, long life. Hours upon days upon months upon years upon decades, he'd sat completely unmoving, still and contemplative. The goings-on of the world were rarely of concern to him. However, to keep himself occupied, he learned things. He kept his ears, such as they were, open to everything that happened within range of his knowledge. As this was basically everywhere, Bokuseno now knew most things worth knowing in the island land of Nihon.

The only downside to his fairly peaceful and enjoyable existence was his inability to move. All those years, and he hadn't moved an inch.

This was because Bokuseno was a tree. A tree demon, to be sure; but a tree nonetheless. The leaves were his ears, the swaying branches his hands. As he'd grown older and stronger, he had learned to use the leaves of other, duller trees to listen as well, spreading his network far and wide. Thus, he had basically negated the nastiness of enforced stillness.

However, there were rare moments when he deeply wished for the ability to pick up his roots and run.

This was one of them.

Sesshoumaru was angry. Angry in a way that Bokuseno had never seen him angry in before. Furious enough to chop down a largish corner of Bokuseno's forest before dropping by to visit. All his poor, poor trees; lying in slaggy heaps of mangled wood and half-melted foliage. It was almost enough to irritate him, except that acting irritable with Sesshoumaru right now seemed an express way to join the ranks of newly-slagged.

So he stayed silent and waited for the red-eyed young man to speak first.

_Wait... red eyes? I seem to remember that being a bad sign. Oh, what I wouldn't give for feet! _

"Where is he?" Sesshoumaru asked finally, voice utterly flat and hair-raising.

Bokuseno wasn't at all certain who the pup was asking about, but from what his branches to the north had told him, the Lord was having difficulties with the East, and so it seemed safe to assume.

"You mean your father?"

"Of course I mean my father!" Sesshoumaru grated. "_Where is he?"_

"South," Bokuseno answered honestly, feeling the faint pulse of Sou'unga's sheath. The clever sheath had been carved from Bokuseno's heartwood, as had Tenseiga's, though the latter's was little more than indestructible dead wood. Sou'unga's sheath, Saya, was alive, though embarrassingly stupid and cowardly. He remained, despite his faults, part of Bokuseno, and the old tree _youkai _could feel him far to the south.

Sesshoumaru waited expectantly for more. "South?" he prompted, unsettling crimson eyes fixed on Bokuseno's ridged face on the trunk.

"Can't say exactly where, but somewhere on Kyushu. He's too far away for me to tell much more than that."

"You are not much help, old man. How do you even know that much, anyways?"

Bokuseno grinned shiftily, cheeks creaking.

Sesshoumaru scowled. "Never mind. I will find out some other time. Thank you for your assistance, grandfather."

Bokuseno blinked, and the white-clad dog youth was gone. He sighed in open relief. Those claws had looked mighty painful, and the boy was angry enough to cause some serious damage. Especially since all Bokuseno could do to defend himself would be put up a rather flimsy shield that would never stand up to a demon of Sesshoumaru's caliber.

He ruffled his tingling leaves, feeling highly off-balance. Things were happening outside his little forest, and the other woods were strangely silent. He felt alone and cut off.

_Ah, well. Nothing for it but to buckle down and wait for it to pass. And hope it passes soon. _

xxxxx

Ryuunomei washed the blood off his hands, and felt deeply frustrated. The woman, last in a long, long line, lay naked on the futon in a welter of gore. It had not brought him any pleasure at all, this time. Her long dark hair was shining with blood, deep hazel eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling. The juices of his pleasure lay strung across her pale thighs, gleaming. Between there and her face was nothing identifiable, just a random heap of innards and shredded flesh.

She'd screamed quite beautifully, at least. It made nothing better, but at least there was that. When she'd screamed, that last time, he'd closed his eyes and almost succeeded in believing she was the one he wanted beneath him. Of course, she'd gotten the little hitching hook on the very end wrong, and broken the illusion. It wasn't her fault; but he needed no excuse to be angry or to kill her, so he'd done both. There had been no satisfaction in it.

Ryuunomei was a twisted, corrupted creature. He did not own a conscience, or anything even remotely resembling one. However, he did have a heart, and he did feel things. Very strong things, very often. Anger and hatred were the most common, his daily companions. Joy made an occasional appearance, when things went right, and he was capable of feeling satisfaction on occasion.

He was also capable of love. It was an abominable, crawling thing, but it was love. He had _loved _her. She had belonged to him. He had never been happier than when he was with her: whether she was smiling or screaming had never made any difference to his contentment. The smell of her had intoxicated him, as had the way she submitted and abased herself so exquisitely. His greatest pleasure had been the feel of her trembling body against him as she shook with silent tears.

At the very memory, he shuddered and closed his eyes. When his brother returned with her, he would be sure to welcome her home properly. Her anticipated shrieks rang sweetly in his ears as he watched the servants clean up the latest not-her.

_You are mine. You will be mine again, Izayoi._

xxxxx

Ryuukossei pressed a bagful of silver coins into the man's hand. "You will receive the other half on delivery, as agreed."

"Hmph."

The man was short, stocky, and dressed all in black. His eyes, where they squinted out of his face mask, were cold and black as well. Shinobi eyes. Assassin's eyes. He pocketed the little bag and straightened.

"What's so special about this woman, anyways?" he asked. His voice was highly unpleasant, like the sound of a cat being dragged through rocks by its tail; a sort of yowling rasp.

"I am not paying you to find her interesting. Just find her, and as quickly as humanly possible."

The ninja grinned, displaying unnaturally sharp teeth and a forked tongue. "Who said anything about _humanly_ possible?" he whispered, and vanished into the shadows. Literally vanished.

Ryuukossei's eyes widened. He had not felt a hint of _youki _from the man until he'd pulled the little disappearing act. It took great skill to conceal _youki_, especially at such close quarters. He relaxed. The man would have no trouble carrying out the mission with those sorts of abilities at his disposal. "Nii-sama will be pleased," he said to himself out loud, and then walked out of the dark alleyway into the sunlight.

Izayoi would not know what had hit her.

xxxxx

"You look like a smart lot, so I expect to see you with us tomorrow morning," Katsuro finished, leaping off the box and rejoining Izayoi in the small house.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow curiously.

"They'll come," he assured her. "You'll have a fine army by the time I'm done: don't worry."

"You make speeches look so easy," she grumbled, secretly pleased.

"They are easy," he replied affably. "You're just shy."

"Shy!"

He laughed and patted her on the head affectionately. "Well, I'm sure the others are expecting us back. We should get going."

xxxxx

"You know you don't have to come with me to these, right?" he asked quietly while they walked back through the dead leaves and cold wind.

"I don't like being afraid of things."

"Ah."

xxxxx

_He's back. I mean... they're back. _

Naruka stared at her hands and blushed painfully. She was very wise, despite her young age, and knew exactly what it was she was feeling for the tall general. Knew it, and knew that there was nothing she could do about it but dream and tear herself to shreds. It hurt.

She loved being a priestess. The day she'd begun training under Midoriko had been the second happiest day of her life. The only day happier than that was when her _sensei _had proclaimed her training over, and ordained her. Since then, she'd lived every day from a deep place of ease and surety, knowing that she'd found her place in the world. People were healed under her hands, and blessed. The world was right when she was doing what she'd been born for.

Never, never, never had she wanted for even a moment to be anything but a priestess.

Until he'd walked into the circle of their campfire with the stars caught in his hair and laughter in his eyes.

_Stupid, stupid. _

She stared at her hands and wished there was a way to be a priestess and love this way at the same time. So far, nothing had come to mind. She could never surrender her life as a _miko_, but the need to touch him, to run her fingers through that hair, to press her face into the warm hardness of his chest, was driving her mad.

He collapsed into a long-limbed heap a few feet away, and she felt every moment like the air between them was solid.

"Hope you weren't bored without me," he joked.

_Not bored. Hanging. _

"We managed to keep ourselves occupied," Sakenmaru dryly shot back. "So? How did it go?"

"They'll be with us in the morning. I must say, it's actually easier than I thought it would be. Somehow the threat of total extinction is motivating them beyond usual measures."

"Inexplicable. Humans are so strange."

Their playful banter faded into the background, and she just listened to his voice without trying to comprehend.

"Naruka?" A soft voice, a hand on her shoulder. Izayoi.

"Eh?"

"Are you all right? You've been awfully quiet."

_All right? No, nothing's right. It's broken and I don't remember how to fix it. I dropped my life and it shattered. Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. _

"I'm fine," she murmured. "Just tired."

She knew Izayoi didn't believe her, but her sister was kind enough not to push.

"When you want to talk about it, whatever it is, just let me know, all right?"

Naruka nodded, not trusting herself to look at Izayoi's concerned face.

_Whatever it is. It's nothing much, really, I'm just a woman sworn to celibacy who suddenly desires that man over there more than breath, more than food, more than sleep. I can't touch him, and it's killing me. Aneue... help me!_

"Good night, _aneue._"

_It won't be. I don't foresee a 'good night' anywhere in the near future, or the distant one. All the nights I'm alone will be bad nights, and all my nights must be alone if I'm to keep my calling. Which I also love. Why? Why? _

Her eyes filled with tears. It made no sense– she'd never believed in love at first sight, had even regarded love as mere frippery. Just something to make the unhappy lives of everyone else a little more tolerable. It had made her uncomfortable whenever people displayed it, because she couldn't see how they could commit themselves to care for one person like that. She had compassion for everyone, and it was a very great sort of love.

But nothing, nothing like this.

She looked up and realized with a shock that he was looking at her. His dark eyes were fathomless, and he seemed as though he was trying to puzzle something out. When she met his gaze, he didn't flinch or drop his eyes– simply returned it calmly.

She could only hold it for a few seconds before breaking it, but that lock of eyes was the most painful and most beautiful thing that had ever happened to her. Her head sank onto her knees and she caged the swelling sobs within her unyielding ribcage.

_Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

She prayed he wouldn't move. If he moved... if he moved, she would be lost. It was not a 'possibility'– it was certainty. If he moved, to ask her what was wrong or to lie down or to yawn... she would fall apart, throw herself at him, weep, die. Something.

_Please, please don't move. _

He didn't move; in a few minutes she felt composed enough to stand up and walk to her bedroll. It was cold and empty. She slid beneath the woven blankets, shivered, and shut her eyes.

Across the fire, she heard him sigh and move to his own roll. Far away from hers. But still far too close for comfort. While he lived, he would always be too close for comfort.

xxxxx

When they woke in the morning, Izayoi was gone. They were not immediately worried– she often rose early to wash herself in a nearby stream or to hunt. Inutaisho was still asleep, so Naruka, Sakenmaru, and Katsuro made breakfast. Jaken had apparently found his own, as he had slightly moldy-looking bits of foliage and what looked like insects piled in his lap, and was busy munching. Ah-Un was grazing on the dying grass.

They began to wonder after an hour had passed, the sun had risen, and she still was nowhere in evidence. Still, there was no panic– there was of course a logical explanation for her lengthy, uncharacteristic absence.

The panic began when Inutaisho woke up, stretched, and sniffed the air. "Who visited the campsite last night?" he asked groggily. "I smell a stranger."

That, coupled with the missing Izayoi and the fact that none of them had seen a stranger, quickly exploded into fear and then panic. They searched the surrounding area frantically, but even the daiyoukais' superior senses could not track the mysterious intruder.

Inutaisho could smell her leading away to the south for a while, but was certain that it was a false trail. It was too neat, too perfect, and made no sense. He already knew who had taken her, and they would not have gone south.

It sank in when they all returned to the campfire empty-handed. The gap in their ranks glared at him accusingly. He should have protected her.

It unsettled him deeply that he hadn't sensed the intruder, who had to have walked right past his head on their way to Izayoi's bedroll. Especially since, by the scent, it was a demon. Inutaisho should have sensed its youkithe moment it came within a half-riof them. That he hadn't was not a good sign– it spoke of great skill in the arts of concealment. A ninja, most likely.

_Damn! _he thought with agony. Right out from under his nose! She was in the enemy's hand, possibly dead, possibly tortured.

_Black hair red blood. Pale skin gaping open, drooling fluids. Shivering screams in dead air. _

He shuddered, put his head in his hands.

_Think! They have gone north, probably to Ryuunomei's castle. If he wanted her dead, he would not have bothered to kidnap her. She is alive. At least there is that. _

Naruka was weeping, Sakenmaru looked blankly shocked. Katsuro alone was composed, though he looked severely shocked.

"North," Inutaisho said flatly. "They have gone north, and I am going to follow them."

Nobody asked how he knew. Those who knew the history did not have to, and those who didn't could see that there _was _history and chose not to.

"I do not want to leave you without protection," he said, "but I hope you understand that I cannot just leave her to... whatever they have planned." _Torture. Pain. Agony. _

"We're not exactly defenseless," Katsuro reminded him. "We've got Sakenmaru here, he's a decently powerful demon, and an army at our backs."

Sakenmaru was old, and tiring, and had just been through an energy-sucking ordeal. He would not be much help if they were attacked, and the army was nowhere near them at the moment. They would be as good as defenseless if Ryuunomei got serious.

He agonized. Sakenmaru could not go in his place, he was not strong enough to survive in the Eastern castle. The humans simply could not travel fast enough. He was the only one who could save her, and the only one who could protect them.

If he went to save her, they would be in danger. If he stayed and protected them, she would be left to the tender mercies of the dragon lord's torturers, as well as the dragon lord himself.

_No!_

There was no way out that he could see. It was a dilemma, one he did not have time for.

"Damn!" he cried. "What am I supposed to do?"

Sesshoumaru chose this exact moment to arrive, with his natural sense of when the perfect time for a grand entrance was. "_Father,_" he bellowed from the sky.

Inutaisho looked up with wild hope, and when he confirmed who it was, nearly collapsed from joy and relief. "Sesshoumaru!" he cried. "Son, your timing could not have been more perfect."

The youth landed gracefully. "Excuse me?"

"Stay here. Protect them. I will return as fast as I can."

Sesshoumaru stared at him as though he'd grown an extra nose. "Father, I came to tell you that your house is lost to traitors. Why are you all the way down here? Why are you not fighting for your people?"

"I am. I promise I will tell you later. Right now, there is something extremely urgent that I have to do and I need you to protect them."

Sesshoumaru's gaze swept the small group disdainfully. "Sakenmaru-sama," he greeted with a small bow. His eyes narrowed when he registered the humans. "Humans?"

"Sakenmaru will introduce them. I will return."

He launched frantically for the skies and rocketed northwards as fast as he could propel himself. As soon as he got high enough above the trees, he transformed to his great dog form and galloped through the clouds.

_Faster, faster! _

xxxxx

The first thing Izayoi saw when she woke up was a very familiar pair of cold green eyes. She sucked in a desperate breath, and then found she could not expel it.

"You're awake," Ryuukossei said. "Good. Nii-sama is waiting for me to return with you. Stand up."

"Ryuukossei-sama," she breathed, more terrified than she could ever recall being before in her entire life. She knew what this meant– if she was here with him, then they were going back to Ryuunomei. Once she was back in his hands, he would never let go.

His hands curled around her shoulders, and she could almost feel his cool breath in her ear. Her muscles seized. "_No!_" she shrieked, and threw herself away, scrabbling frantically at the dirt.

Her feet were tied, she discovered a scant second later when she tried to stand.

"I thought you'd try that. Stupid girl."

"No, no, no, no..." she sobbed, pulling herself along by her hands. "I don't want to go back! Don't make me!" She slipped and banged her head on the floor. Dazed, she rolled over onto her back and waited for the spinning to stop.

"Tch. As if you have a choice. Nii-sama's missed you, you know. He was very sad for a long time when you left."

She couldn't hear him over the blood roaring in her ears. Her terror was blind, animal, instinctual. He would hurt her again, much worse this time. But he would never let her die, not until he was good and finished. He was a patient man– it would be a very long time before she would be allowed to die.

"No, no, no, no, no no no no no no no no no..."

Pretending not to hear her, Ryuukossei crossed his muscular arms and leaned back. "What were you doing traveling with the dogshit and the old cat? Never mind, I'm sure you'll tell us all about it once we get home. Won't you be glad to be home at last?"

"No, no, no, save me, no!"

"Nii-sama's been nearly out of his mind, he missed you so much. The servants ask after you all the time. Won't you be glad to see them all again?"

"No, no, no, save me, save me, save me save me save me _please_..."

"I missed you too. Aren't you glad to see me?" He reached out with one hand, lifted her struggling form, and dropped her in his armored lap. His arms settled around her and he buried his nose in her hair. Purple braids fell around her head, smooth and shiny like snake scales. She trembled.

"Hush, hush. No need to be so afraid. I won't hurt you. Nii-sama wants you back unharmed."

_Oh, spirits, I'm going to be tortured and then I'm going to die. After I beg for it for a long time. Save me, somebody please save me! _

"You smell exactly the same," he remarked, "just like flowers. I missed the way you smell."

He was so much larger than her. She felt like a child cradled on his lap. He stroked her arm, and she shuddered.

"Izayoi-chan?" He tipped her head up. She shut her eyes. "So, it's that way then. Ah, well. Some things just can't be helped."

He kissed her, ferocious but careful not to bruise. His fangs grazed her lip but did not puncture.

_Save me, save me, save me. Inutaisho..._

Ryuukossei's tongue ravaged her mouth. She fell slack and let him do what he would. Her strength was nothing to his. Resistance was pointless and would be unnecessarily painful. Better just to give in...

_Just surrender. _

His hands tightened around her back, crushing her to him. She was running out of air.

_Maybe I'll pass out and be spared the rest of this._

He pulled away, and she sighed with regret. It seemed there would be no blissful reprieve.

"Just the same, exactly the same. I've missed you so much." He stood, pulling her up with him. She hung in his grip like a rag doll, completely unresponsive. "Come on then, nii-sama's waiting to see you. Time to go."

Her eyes drifted shut and she gave up all hope.

_Inutaisho... I'm sorry. I just can't fight them. I hope you understand. _

_Oh, Inutaisho. _

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thank you for reading!


	19. Ashes

**A/N: **Warning, uncomfortable subject material ahead. Read at your own risk.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XIX: Ashes**_

**xxxxx**

_Around a campfire in a wise forest sat a motley group of thoroughly uncomfortable people. _

_They were waiting. _

_The dog demon's son sat in a tree and steadfastly practiced pretending he was elsewhere. The priestess studied her hands and wished there was a way to surrender to her heart and still retain her beloved calling. The general wished the same. Meanwhile, the toad, the dragon, and the lion reflected on how much they'd love to take a hatchet to the palpable tension hanging over the gloomy clearing._

_xxxxx_

_Unconscious in the arms of someone far stronger and far crueler than she, a beautiful human woman with hair like raven's wings dreamt uneasily. Her bearer smiled as he carried her towards darkness and defilement, and his teeth, gleaming in the setting sun, were white as marble doves._

_xxxxx_

_Breathing ragged and gasping, the dog demon galloped through the clouds, paws digging into the wind and propelling him onwards. Images of someone with a secretly blinding smile who meant something undefinable to him, helpless and hurting, galvanized his tired limbs and he continued thundering on. He prayed he was not too late, but the even the gods had folded their hands and retreated out of fear of his enemy. The wind tore at him as though to hold him back, but he paid it no mind._

_xxxxx_

The mountain saw everything, and did not care.

For years now, it had watched the sun rise and fall, rise and fall... and rise and rise and fall and fall. It had pondered the shapes of clouds and the colours of the changing hours. It had felt the trees dig their roots a little deeper into its awesomely silent sides, felt the wind and rain devour its flesh slowly day by day.

The mountain was _old._

It could not move, and so it watched.It watched the creeping seasons light the land it sat on, watched the rivers eat deeper into the earth with soft grey teeth. The birds were beautiful to watch, but moved so quickly, the mountain could hardly follow. The moon was the mountain's favorite companion-- it was so slow and gentle, with none of the impatient harshness of the sun's frantic scrabble across the sky.

The mountain was restless. It had been for several years now. If stone could feel pain, it would have been like an ache deep in the gut, a building pressure and sickly bloating of inflexible sides. The mountain knew the feeling very well, for it happened every few decades or so. It was never pleasant. The mountain gave its version of a sigh and watched the dog claw desperately through the malicious wind, and wondered slowly with groaning ponderosity what was going on that made the great being so frantic.

The mountain watched, and did not care overmuch. It would pass, as all things did.

xxxxx

"Can you hear it, little brother?" Ryuunomei whispered. "The screaming of the land? Something is happening."

Ryuukossei shifted his weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "I don't hear anything, Nii-sama."

The dark silhouette against the brilliant slash of light that was the only window made an annoyed sound. "How could you possibly _not _hear that? You must be deaf."

"Yes, nii-sama."

"It's pathetic, really. It's so loud it's making my head hurt, and you could probably go to sleep right now without any problem."

"Yes, nii-sama."

The figure turned from the blinding window to sway across the floor. "Did you bring her?"

"Yes, nii-sama."

"Is she unharmed?"

"Yes, nii-sama."

Ryuunomei chuckled, a dark and humourless sound. "My, aren't you eloquent today."

",Yes, nii-sama."

The dragon heaved a long-suffering sigh and padded back to the window. "You bore me. Leave. Send the woman in for dinner in two candle-marks. Make her presentable."

"Yes, nii-sama." After bowing deeply, the shaking warrior demon strode out of the hall as fast as was polite.

A black smile wound its way across Ryuunomei's pale face. "Good, good. All is well now."

xxxxx

The kimono was beautiful. The kimono was also hideous and wrong in every stitch. She looked at it and simultaneously admired it and wanted to burn it to ashes. It lay on the bed, mocking her fear with its sinuous lines and twisted beauty. She ran a hand over its opulent panels and shuddered.

"Go on then, Izayoi-chan. Put it on."

She drew her shoulders up around her ears, trying to make herself as small as possible. The room around closed in as though embracingly her lovingly. Familiar walls, hateful walls. Izayoi knew every knot in the ceiling beams, and hated each one separately.

_That one looks like a horse. I used to imagine it running away with me on its back, during... and that one looks like the sun, and that one always reminded me of a waterfall. _

They were like old, unwelcome friends, those whorls and loops in the grain of the wood. She had used to construct entire sagas for them, each little knot a separate, distinct character, and play them out endlessly in her head. They had distracted her from what lay between her and them.

The sun was setting-- she watched the shoji light from without as though aflame. How many times had she seen that very sight, lying on her back with pain her entire existence? More times than she could count. The optical illusion of burning paper fascinated her now as it always had then. Izayoi watched how over and over the flaming door did not crumble into ash, and when the last sliver of molten heat abruptly vanished, smiled sadly at the uncharred white expanse. Every night, the palace burned to the ground, only to be reborn in the night as though never touched.

It was all heartbreakingly familiar. Izayoi felt sick.

"Come on now, Izayoi-chan. You don't have all night. I'll send the maid in."

She did not reply, only continued to look expressionlessly at the stunning silk garment sprawled wantonly on the bed. The sheer layers of under-kimono were dyed ever-brighter shades of red, vulgar and bloody. The over-kimono was what made her shudder, though. It was black and did not reflect the light, and across its dark expanses, curling around where her calves and thighs would be, cavorted a pair of demonic lovers. They were completely bare and luminously white against the devouring black of the background, and their eyes were blazing red as they scored each other with sharp, gory nails. The wide obi was the exact colour of dried blood in moonlight.

It made her want to vomit, just looking at it. However, there was nothing for it-- here alone in Ryuunomei's stronghold, she had no power to resist. She was accustomed to obedience in any case, and falling back into felt as natural as breathing.

Izayoi resigned herself.

Resolutely, she ignored Ryuukossei's presence and let her traveling clothes fall to the floor in a crude heap. His eyes burned her back, and she steeled herself against the tears that threatened. The crimson silk was cold and slick as she slipped it around her pebbled flesh. Winter was pounding on autumn's doorstep, now, not merely approaching. The days grew cold and impersonal.

She slowly donned the fifth and last layer of red silk and turned to the abomination on the futon. It was heavy in her hands, and slithered as she lifted it.

_I have been shamed worse than this. There is nothing for it. _

The weight of it pulled her into the floor, and she knew without looking that the cleverly designed lovers were now wrapped around her legs, artistically tormenting each other. The maid padded in and expertly wrapped the endless obi around her waist tightly, securing it with a flamboyant, vulgar knot that was almost never used by any but the cheapest and least dignified of ladies-in-waiting. The entire thing was designed to humiliate her.

So, Izayoi decided not to let it affect her. She made up her mind to pretend it was merely plain black, and to forget about the come-hither knot on the back of her obi. She would _not _lower her head again to him!

"You look lovely, Izayoi-chan," Ryuukossei drawled from behind her.

"Thank you, Ryuukossei-sama," she answered flatly. She knew her eyes had lost their depth and sparkle. They would be flat as hazelnut husks, now, and about as lively.

"Let's go, I'm sure nii-sama is waiting for us by now."

Despite her every effort not to let herself feel anything, her heart still viciously twisted in on itself and her gut wrenched painfully. "Yes." She followed him mindlessly down corridors she knew blindfolded and backwards. Her feet knew the way, though she thought she'd forgotten.

The smell of fish and miso wafted past her nose.

"Here we are!" the dragon proclaimed cheerfully. "Nii-sama will be so happy to see you. He's missed you _ever _so much."

Blind terror gripped her and she lost control of her legs. They continued walking steadily after Ryuukossei without her. The man waiting behind the doors had always been able to do this do her without any effort at all.

_Ryuunomei. _

She tightened her hands in the disgusting folds of the kimono and stared unblinkingly at nothing.

_In my last life, I must have been a terrible person for my karmic debt to lash back so horrifically. Oh, spirits, I'm so afraid of him. So afraid._

She had suffered under him for years and years, far too terrified of the threatened consequences to breathe a word of her pain to anyone. Izayoi knew, as few others did, what being _alone _truly meant. 'Alone' had nothing to do with how many people surrounded her. 'Alone' meant having no one to turn to, no one to stand with, no one to stand with her, no matter where she was. She had been alone for years in the middle of a busy castle full of people. Her family had been there, and her friends. It made no difference, none whatsoever. If she could not reach out and share with them, they were as good as absent. That was what 'alone' meant.

And now, despite all her hope and all the promises of the future, she was alone again, right back where she'd started. The feeling of it was mercilessly crushing her heart, flattening it against the stone floor of her soul with its oppressive weight. There was no hope. No consolation, not here, except in the one person she didn't want it from.

_Alone._

Golden eyes and moonlight hair flashed across her mind, but she ruthlessly shut them out. There was no use thinking of him-- he was one, and they were many. He would die in the attempt.

_If he even tries... which he probably won't. I'm just a human woman, after all, and a burden to him. He's better off without me. I can wish all I want for him to save me-- it isn't going to happen. No matter how much I want it. _

_Oh, Inutaisho. _

Ryuukossei slid the doors open with a great air of pomp, ushering her in. Her limbs obeyed without her consent.

_A rag doll. That's what I feel like. A puppet rag doll, with strings leading to his fingers. His beautiful, beautiful fingers. _

She walked in and faced the other half of her soul.

He stood indolently at the head of the low table, deep blue kimono hanging on his tall, delicate frame as though on a hangar-- straight and shapeless. He had combed his unruly violet hair, and it lay quiescent about the fine bones of his jaw. And his eyes were just the same, just the same as she remembered. Cold and hard as gemstones, but so much more beautiful and alive.

She loved him utterly. Since she'd been a child, he had always awed her with his presence and power. As she'd grown, it had become somewhat of a fascination and she'd followed his every move with wide-eyed attention. Thus, when he had finally begun to pay notice to her, she'd been overjoyed and had given him anything he asked.

Hours and hours she'd spent running every errand he ran across, bathing his feet, massaging his shoulders, tending him when his ill health got the better of him. Her infatuation had grown, then turned into a tenderness and respect as the years had passed. From there, it had metamorphosed into helpless love without her noticing. Until the day...

_Iza-chan, will you come with me a minute? _

She bowed gracefully to him and he tilted his head back at her. "That kimono looks delectable on you, my dear. I wish I had remembered it earlier."

"Thank you, my lord."

_Iza-chan, I want to check something. Will you take that kimono off? Just for a minute, I promise._

"Have a seat, have a seat! The chefs have truly outdone themselves this time. Please!"

Her limbs leaped to action, dragging her woodenly across the floor. He moved to meet her.

"Oh, Izayoi-chan, I've missed you so. Have you missed me?" He folded his long, thin arms corded with ropy muscle around her shoulders. Her arms raised themselves to curl around his slender back and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Yes, my lord."

_Gods, what I wouldn't give to be lying. But I have, haven't I. He hurt me so much, but sometimes... those times afterwards when he fell asleep, and his face was slack and careless... the times when I was upset and he worked so hard to make me smile... the times when I caught him off guard and he cried on my shoulder... _

"I'm glad. I'm so glad!" His face, which she had seen in every range of emotion possible, was currently wide and guileless, almost innocent. She could read the truth in his eyes-- he _had _missed her, for whatever reason.

_You're very beautiful, Iza-chan. Why are you covering yourself? You have nothing to be ashamed of. _

"Please, sit down. Here." He grandly indicated the cushion next to his. There was an opulent feast laid out on the table, and she suddenly realized just how hungry she was after two days of travel with only dried fruit and meat to eat.

She sank down, following his pointed finger. He followed suit moments later.

"How have you been, Iza-chan?"

_Are you all right, Iza-chan? I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean to, I lost control. I am ashamed of myself... can you forgive me?_

"I've been well, my lord."

He waited a minute, as though expecting more. "That's all? I leave you alone in the middle of nowhere for two years, without friend or help, and all you can say is 'I've been well?'" he echoed incredulously. "I was expecting you to rail at me, strike me, weep, _something_."

_I am never happier than when I am with you, Izayoi my love. Will you stay with me forever and ever? I promise not to hurt you anymore!_

"Did you?" she asked, and her voice was supremely uninterested. She was proud. It seemed her skill at concealing her emotions and suppressing them had increased.

He frowned, pale lips curving downwards in a way that made her want to trace them with her fingertips. "This isn't like you, Iza-chan. Is there something wrong?"

"No. It's good to be home."

_Home. This is my home. This is... where I belong. _

_What would he have been like, I wonder, if when he was a child they had left pain and suffering out of his education? What would he have been like if I had been there with him? I think, perhaps, he would have been wonderful. I believe this is what the writers call a 'tragedy'. He is so beautiful, and so ruined. _

"Help yourself, Iza-chan. The food is wonderful, we have a new chef."

_Iza-chan... I love you. Thank you for not hating me. _

"Ryuunomei-sama..."

"No need for such a formal honorific! Why so stiff?"

"...have you been well?"

He smiled, brilliant and clear. "Not really. I've been... very lonely, Iza-chan. Can I tell you something?"

She nodded, picking at her grilled snapper.

"Truth is, I regretted every minute since leaving you out there. I wanted to bring you back, but because of the talisman I couldn't. I'm so glad you're back, and unharmed."

She sat in silence, and listened to her heart tear itself to shreds. _He could have been so great. Why? Why? _The food was very good, she knew, but it tasted bland and worthless on her tongue.

"Won't you yell? Won't you tell me how you feel?"

"I am not angry. My wounds have healed."

_Humans are so fragile! What have I done to you, my little flower? It is too much. I cannot look at you. Leave me alone! _

"Is that all you were angry with me for?"

For a long, long moment she sat and tried to wrap the silence around her. She failed, as she'd known she would. Looking up, she met his eyes. _Green as springtime. _"Why..." she began, hoarsely.

He sat expectantly, straight-backed.

"Why... _why _did you leave me alone?" she gasped, the truth of the pain in her words leaving jagged edges to her voice. "I would have _died _for you. Why? _Why?_"

A thunderstruck expression slammed into his pale face and his limbs twitched involuntiarly. "I..." He disappeared for a split second from his place, and immediately reappeared at her side. Even years later, his movements were still too fast for her human eyes to follow. "Iza-chan... Izayoi..."

_Inutaisho never called me by name. I was always 'woman' to him. I'd forgotten how good it feels to hear my name from lips of someone I love..._

"I'm so sorry. I promise I'll never do it again. Can you ever forgive me?"

The food lay forgotten on the table, hours of effort disregarded. She was not hungry at all, not anymore. "Ryuu...nomei... sama," she staggered, trying to express everything at once but not having enough voice for it all.

She was frozen in place and could not move. _You hurt me. You hurt me so much! But still... I wish... _

He chuckled, and the sound broke her heart all over again. "I suppose not. I don't blame you. I've hurt you so much, and never apologized for it. I know that I am a terrible person, not worthy of love. But sometimes, I just wish..."

Izayoi broke, cried out, and threw her arms around him. He was manipulating her, she knew. In the depths of his mind, he was cold and calculating, constructing every sentence to make her _feel _the most. She was not stupid. His every move was clear and obvious to her now that she'd had time to think about it.

_Even so... even deeper than this part of him, I see what he might have been. And seeing it, I grieve that it was never realized, that potential. He is pulling me around by my strings, but because I know this I don't mind. I am deeper than that. _

"Ryuunomei-sama, you are manipulating me," she said flatly, fingers tangled in his once-orderly hair. "Please stop it, I don't need your machinations to make me love you."

He went still. "What did you say?" he said quietly.

"You are twisted and ruined. Yet still, I see behind everything you do to the reasons you do them. I love you, Ryuunomei-sama, despite every reason you've given me not to. When you say these things, I see how you try to manipulate me. And I'm telling you now, you don't need to. I need no convincing to love you. I have _always _loved you." She tightened her grip on his frail, powerful form. "You hurt me. You hurt me so much! But I see farther than that. I will never hate you. I could never hate you, because I see you for everything you are. Ryuunomei-sama..."

He trembled beneath her hands. "You're lying," he rasped. "I am despicable. There is nothing in me worth loving. You lie!"

She pulled back a ways, the heavy silk of the gory kimono rustling, and cupped his face in her hands. His eyes were full of confusion, whirling with incomprehension and anger. She dug her fingers gently into his temples, _willing _him to understand.

"You are wrong," she said, simply. "There is something in you worth loving, despite every terrible thing you've done. For those, I may never be able to forgive you. _Thousands _of my people are dead because of that barrier you created, from the atrocities you've committed in your time. But I have seen all of you, over the years, and I disagree with you when you say that there is nothing worth loving. Most of you is hateful, you are right. But there are some things..."

She never got the chance to finish her charitable sentence. He seized her in strong, wiry fingers and kissed her with desperate passion.

_Oh, my lord. You might have shone so brightly. Please, let me love you as well as I may..._

She returned his ardor with all the shining generosity of her soul.

This time, there was no pain. She surrendered to him and wept his name to the knots of the ceiling beams. This time, he made love to her with all the brightness that might have been his... if.

_If. _

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **And this year's winner for Miss Stockholm Syndrome is...


	20. Conversations

**A/N: **This chapter is somewhat of an interlude, in that neither of our main characters make an appearance.

Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XX: Conversations**_

**xxxxx**

Yamaguchi Katsuro was a warrior born, raised, and chosen. Born to a samurai family, he'd been raised by his samurai father to the code of the warrior, and when it had come time to choose his own path, he had chosen to remain a warrior and had never looked back.

He had been born with a battle cry thirty-seven years before the day facing him now. Every day of his life had been a battle, and he had not lost a single one.

_Katsuro-kun... if you wish to be victorious, you must make every decision without hesitation or doubt, and you must face the consequences without fear or regret. You may die-- but you will win, in the end. Second-guessing yourself will only lead to the worst possible outcome of any situation. _

Death did not frighten him. How could it, when it walked in his shadow every step of the journey of his life? It sang and whistled quietly to itself, a constant grim-faced companion. Sometimes it was a woman, and he wondered if she might be his lover one day.

_Katsuro-kun... you will be afraid. Fear will travel on your back everywhere you go. Do not think that warriors are fearless- we are not. The trick is not to grant it equal footing with your courage. Courage has nothing whatsoever to do with fearlessness. Fearlessness is stupidity. Fear can sharpen your senses, give strength to your failing limbs-- but it must not hold the reins. _

Pain did not frighten him. How could it, when every day they met in moonlight trysts, overtaxed limbs shrieking under the tender ministrations of the red goddess? Pain walked in the sunlight every day, right before his eyes. It had no need to hide.

_Katsuro-kun... you will get hurt. However, if you walk into a battle expecting to get hurt, then that is the greatest guarantee you can give yourself of getting wounded. You will get hurt... but go into the fight with the firm belief that you will not. Then it is far more likely that you will escape unscathed. _

_Katsuro-kun... do not consider failure as an option. If you do, if you entertain the possibility, you invite it in. Assume that you will win. Always. _

_Katsuro-kun... if ever you catch yourself over-analyzing a situation, force yourself to stop thinking and obey your intuition. It is incapable of leading you wrong. _

His teacher's words leisurely drifted and bounced through the caverns of his mind as he paced back and forth out of earshot of the campsite. "What to do, what to do." He thrust hands behind his sword-belt and tucked his chin into his chest. "What to do, what to do!"

_Katsuro-kun..._

"What to do..."

_Katsuro-kun..._

"Why don't I know what to do?"

_Katsuro-kun..._

"Shut up!" he cried to the persistent monotone voice in his mind. "It's not black and white, not here!"

Whenever he found himself in a conflict of any kind with himself, which was not often, that was the form the opposition always took. He liked to think that his _sensei_, though long dead, still watched over him as a minor _kami _from the shadows. He knew his _sensei_ was not truly speaking to him from beyond the grave, but even the imagined voice was enough to make him sit up and listen.

_Katsuro-kun..._

He could hear her singing to herself, on the far side of the fire, as she tidied up after a day of forced inactivity. Her glossy braids were bound behind her neck with a white strip of cloth, to keep it out of her pale face. There was a look of quiet contentment in her eyes. Katsuro stopped involuntarily to watch, nails digging into his palms painfully.

"I don't know what to do."

_Katsuro-kun..._

"Didn't I tell you to shut up? I'm thinking!"

_Don't think._

"But..."

_Don't think._

"She's a priestess. Does 'sworn to celibacy' ring any bells?"

_Don't think._

"She loves her calling more than anything in the world, and anyone can see it's her destiny. She has so much talent... and she's Midoriko's heir... I can't take that away from her. Even if she'd let me. I _can't_."

_You wonder why you never defeat me? You think too much. Everything will fall into place if you stop thinking and start moving._

"She most likely harbours no feelings of the kind for me at all. Why would she? She is the elite, the pure. I am death. Pain, destruction, tears. Everything she works so hard to prevent. I could never hope for her to even look at me."

_Stop... thinking... move!_

"I dare not. She deserves better."

_Katsuro-kun!_

"Still, what harm can there be in knowing the truth of it? Then there can be no question. I must simply ask so that I can move on."

The voice in his mind was growing steadily more cold and dangerous. It was amazing, how detailed the imaginary voice was.He wondered if perhaps it was not so imaginary... surely, such a chill could not be manifested by his mind alone.

_Move. Now. I will not say it again. _

Katsuro's spine snapped straight, and he shivered. Even after death, his _sensei _had the power to terrify the living wits out of him. "Yes, sir!"

He began to walk jerkily towards her, towards the firelight.

She looked up at his approach and self-consciously dusted her hands off on her hakama. "Katsuro-san... can I help you?"

"Er."

She cocked an eyebrow quizzically. He lost the ability to breathe. She was especially lovely, it was true... but it was more than that. He had seen many beautiful women in his time and his travels. It would take more than pearlescent skin and red lips to knock him over like this. Perhaps it was the smile she always carried except in the worst of times-- she was irrepressible. Perhaps it was the calm capability with which she did everything, even the smallest tasks. Perhaps, the way she had of seeming to know what everyone was thinking at any time.

In any case, he knew with a soldier's instinct that this was one battle he'd lost utterly. At the very least, he could go out gracefully. "Naruka-sama," he began again, voice firm with resignation. "I have a question, of sorts."

"Of sorts?" she asked apprehensively. Perceptiveness was her talent, and it did not fail her now. She could tell something was off, and was concerned. "Katsuro-san, is there something wrong?"

"Yes. I mean... no?" He knew the expression on his face had to be laughably confused. She must think he was a fool of the highest order. In the manner of men, he tensed all his muscles and held himself rigid in order to preserve inner discipline. "I mean, there is nothing wrong. I just need to know something."

"Well then, out with it!" she tittered nervously, fiddling with her fingertips.

"Naruka-sama... you love your calling, yes?"

She missed how still he became as her eyes flashed to the ground. "Yes, more than anything."

He sighed and relaxed. "Good. That is all." Easily as that, he turned to leave.

"All? You mean, you looked so worried and overwrought about _that? _I'm sorry, Katsuro-san, but I don't believe you. There is more to it than that."

_Damn you and your insight! _"It is not important, Naruka-sama. Just some foolishness I hadn't been able to purge from my mind, is all. Nothing to worry about."

She crossed her arms in classic interrogation posture and slid a foot forward. He froze, knowing he was trapped. "That's a lie. Come on, it can't be that terrible. Tell me!"

"Oh, it is terrible indeed. Trust me, you don't want to know."

"Katsuro-san! What's gotten into you? Come on, I promise I won't laugh or run away. You can trust me with whatever it is." She laughed softly into her hands.

_Move! Now! _

"If... if you were not a priestess..."

"...Yes? I'm listening!"

"If you were not bound as you are, what... what would you do?"

She frowned and furrowed her brow in thought, long finger tapping her lips in a characteristic gesture he was intimately familiar with from observing hundreds of times. "I don't know, really... probably, I'd end up married off with several children. That's what most other women do, isn't it?"

"Would that be... something terrible, to you?"

"No... I suppose I would not mind overmuch."

Elated, he pounced. "And if you were to get married, theoretically of course, what sort of man would you envision?"

Light dawned in her eyes at last and she drew back half a step. "Oh..."

Crushed, he bowed and apologized. "I am sorry, it was an impertinent question. Please forgive me."

Regaining her composure, she straightened and briskly dusted her hakama again. "Nonsense! It's a harmless question. I was just surprised because I had never really thought of it before. Well, hmm..." The finger returned to her lips and tapped a jerky, unsettled rhythm. She was blushing faintly. "I suppose... I would want to marry..."

The blood roared in his ears, nearly obscuring her answer. What in hell had possessed him to...?

"...someone very like yourself, Katsuro-san." Then she gasped and covered her mouth, shock written plain on her features. "I mean... that is to say..." She gathered herself, hands clenched tight before her. "But it is a theoretical question, is it not?"

"Oh yes," he replied faintly, near to expiring with conflicting joy and agony. "Theoretical, of course."

It was not the answer he'd been expecting at all. He'd expected her to say that she would never consider anything outside her current path, that her calling was everything. That she had answered the question at all had been a surprise...that she'd answered it as she had had nearly made him fall over with astonishment. So, she _could _have loved him if not for her calling... but she would not, not ever. It was a mixed blessing. He knew, now... but at the same time, the answer only made him long for it to be otherwise.

She was turning to walk away, and he was thankful. The sooner she was gone, the sooner he could fall apart without witnesses to his shame. But just as he thought the conversation was truly well and over, she stopped in her tracks. She did not turn to face him. "Why did you ask me that, Katsuro-san?"

"Because," he answered tiredly, not seeing a point to skirting around the point anymore, "I really wanted to know the answer."

"I will not betray my calling." She paused, shoulders shaking. "Not even for you."

"I understand. I would never ask that of you."

"But the question was not theoretical at all, was it."

He had to strain to hear her last words, but his heart sank at the pain in them. Of all the things he'd intended in asking, causing her distress was certainly not one of them. "No. I apologize for inflicting you with my own weakness. Forgive me."

"Don't!" she cried, finally whirling back to face him. "Don't _ever _apologize for that!"

Confounded, he could only stare at her.

"No one has _ever _wanted me that way before. Though I cannot reciprocate, I cannot express the way it makes me feel to know that you do. Please, don't ever apologize for finding me... desirable."

He was thunderstruck. "Naruka-sama..."

"Thank you. I should be thanking you. It may cause inner conflict, but without conflict, who in the world grows stronger?"

Bitter, so bitter. He longed to catch her up and smooth the harshness away from her features. "I love you," he said, the words falling out of his lips like they'd been hiding there waiting for their opportunity all along. It was her turn to be thunderstruck. "Or at least, I could. You are a person that I could love very deeply, Naruka-sama. But I realize that I may not, and so if you will permit me, I will withdraw now and never speak of it again."

Naruka's body went through a very complex series of motions and expressions then, so fast he could not follow. There was anguish in there, trepidation, hope, pain, anxiety... the list was very long and incomplete. She ended with her fists clenched at her sides and head lowered to hide her eyes. "No, I will _not _permit it."

"...What?"

She raised her head to stare at him desperately, a very strange and unrecognizable expression on her face. When she spoke, it was low, pleading and resigned. "I have come to realize that I cannot simply slam the door on this as I could with most things prior to it. Katsuro-san, you are also a person that I could love... given the opportunity. But I am torn, because I cannot see away to do both. I love my calling as a priestess far too much to turn from it, but neither can I seem to turn from you. I am... torn."

His arms twitched with the need to hold her, and after a bare moment of fruitless, desperate resistance, he surrendered for the first time in his life and with two long strides closed the gap between them. His arms were like live things, reaching and curling around her trembling shoulders as he pulled her into him. "Don't worry about it for now, Naruka-sama. Just let it work out as it will in time."

She went stiff as a tree in his embrace, but when he stayed still and made no move to threaten her further, she relaxed and tentatively returned the chaste embrace. Her head slipped into the notch beneath his chin as though it had been designed to rest there. He stroked her hair and let her cry, dying inside. Having known this bliss even for one moment, he knew he would never, ever be able to move away from her without losing everything important to him.

She wept out loud, and he wept silently. They held each other and tried not to fall apart.

It was a battle neither of them could really afford to lose.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	21. When Mountains Scream

**A/N: **Back to the show!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXI: When Mountains Scream**_

**xxxxx**

Inutaisho was confused.

Izayoi had been captured during the night. It _should _have taken two days of travel by air to reach Ryuunomei's castle. It was now the evening of the third day and he knew by the landscape that he was only just now drawing near. Mount Fuji gleamed imposingly on the horizon, a tall marker of the castle's location. It now looked as though the anticipated two-day trip was evolving into four.

He suspected the involvement of magic, but could sense nothing. For absolutely no reason that he could discern, it was taking him twice as long to reach his destination as it should have. He was very, very tired.

To make his unease even worse, the land had been bothering him all day. It was making sounds of discomfort, a sort of sub-tonal rumbling and moaning just beyond the detection of any living ear. The bass vibration on his skin made him itchy. Something was coming, and his instincts wanted him to run away from whatever it was as fast as he could.

Of course, that was not something he could do. She was waiting for him to save her. There was no one else who could, or would if they even had the opportunity. Somewhere just ahead, she was helpless in his greatest enemy's grasp and it was his responsibility as her leader to rescue her. As her ally. As her friend.

His obliging mind offered him images of what she might very possibly be going through at that exact moment, and he felt sick to his stomach. He had known and hated Ryuunomei for thousands of years, and knew exactly what level of atrocity the man was capable of. The thought of the woman he'd come to be quite fond of undergoing his tender ministrations made his eyes cloud over in a film of hot blood.

Inutaisho was still not clear on what he felt for Izayoi. He was extremely reluctant to call it love, because of the implications of loving a human woman. She was attractive. She was enjoyable to spend time with. She was courageous almost to a fault, and loyal to him despite the fact that she really had no reason to be. So... he was very fond of her. She was a good friend, and he had no intention of letting anyone hurt her while he had the power to stop it.

So, for that reason, he pushed his aching, weary body a little harder and continued to fly onwards, enormous paws devouring the sky. Soon, he would be too exhausted to maintain this large form and would collapse back into his smaller humanoid one. Until then, he wished to cover as much land as possible.

The sun began to set.

xxxxx

Izayoi sat in the garden next to her lord and watched the sun set. Behind her the _shoji _were on fire again, and would be until the last sliver of light disappeared. She never tired of the visual effect of its glowing when the red sunsets shone through it.

"Why does it do that?" she asked.

"Do what?"

"Look like it's on fire like that. Most _shoji _don't. I've only ever seen it here."

"It's because of the quality of rice paper we use for them. It's special and expensive, and there's something mixed into the paper that gives it that effect when the sunset shines through it. Lovely, isn't it?"

"I'd always wondered."

"Curious child."

There was a short almost-silence, filled with the echoes of memories.

"How are Akira and the others doing?" she asked, just to block out the silence. She did not care overmuch.

"They are fine. I have sent them out on various missions, so they are not home right now. Akira is in the north delivering a message to Kouma for me. Do you miss them?"

"Yes," Izayoi lied.

"Stay with me a while and you will definitely see them again."

_I don't care. They have moved beyond my heart. Perhaps I still feel something for Akira, but the others... I hardly remember their names. _"That would be nice."

"You must have been so lonely out there by yourself, Iza-chan. Was it very bad?"

_Your fault! _her mind blazed. _It was you that left me alone out there! _"Yes, it was. It was very bad indeed."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not."

He laughed. "You're right, I'm not really. It just seemed the polite thing to say."

"Don't bother. I couldn't care less if you're polite or not."

"That's why I like you, Iza-chan," he murmured into her hair.

She said nothing for a little while. There were questions that needed to be asked, but she wasn't sure she had the courage. They were painful questions. Questions that probably had no good, happy answers. Questions that would only make her even more miserable.

However, they needed to be asked.

"Ryuunomei-sama," she said, empty soulless eyes fixed straight ahead.

"Yes, my flower?" he replied, lounging on the warm wooden deck next to her.

He did not look so threatening when he was lying down, and so she found the courage to continue. "What do you intend to do with me?" There was no point being anything but blunt with a question like that. If she skirted around it, he would only get annoyed.

"Do with you?" He looked genuinely puzzled, as though he honestly hadn't thought that far ahead.

She didn't believe a moment of it. He was a serpent, and scheming was his forte. Everything he did was always planned out several steps in advance. Her being here had a purpose, and she doubted very much that it had anything to do with him wanting her company, true as that may be. If she had been outside the castle, she might have been able to think clearly enough to figure out what it was. However, something in the air of the house fogged her brain and she continually drifted in a haze of half-awareness.

"The truth, if you will. There isn't much I can do to prevent anything you have planned anyway. I'm just curious as to why I'm _really _here."

She watched his eyes narrow to slits and a delighted smile spread. "You are here to be rescued," he said gleefully, and at first she did not understand.

_Rescue? Who would rescue me? Who would have the strength? Oh, Inutaisho probably could, if he set his mind to it, but why would he? I'm just a human woman. It wouldn't be worth it for him to risk himself for my sake, not if he wants to save his kingdom. I believe he is intelligent enough to realize that. Or at least, I hope he is. None of the others are strong enough, even if they were together. And the army is not ready yet. _

The smile on Ryuunomei's face grew and grew until she could see his vicious, needle-sharp fangs. She had scars all over her neck from those. The expression on his eyes was one of such twisted delight and anticipation that she couldn't help but shudder.

"Rescue?" she echoed herself. "By whom? It's not as if anyone cares enough to come after me."

He tilted his head to look at her. "It gives me great pleasure to say that you're wrong, Iza-chan. Someone does indeed care enough to follow, and it's exactly who I hoped it would be."

Her heart sank. _He wouldn't... would he? Why? _

"...And what's even better, he came alone. Foolish puppy. He should have known better."

Her heart stopped sinking, opting instead to squeeze itself out of existence. Her chest compressed painfully. _Well, that answers that. He would. _

She tore her mind away with a great effort so that she could take a breath. _Think about other things. There is nothing I can do about this. If he comes, he will die, and I am helpless to stop him. Why? Why, Inutaisho? _

"Now then, let's talk about something more cheerful, shall we? Say, perhaps... your father."

She knew, with helpless agony, that he enjoyed every line of the expression on her face. Her father had always been her weak point, the one she would do anything to protect or make happy. His pride in her was the one thing she could not bear to hurt. He was the reason she'd kept quiet during the years of abuse from Ryuunomei, the reason she had never made a move of protest at anything that was done to her.

Her father, Ishihara Tokoge, was a great man. A talented diplomat, a strong warrior, and loving father, he'd been everything she'd looked up to. While she loved her mother very much, it was her father that made her willing to endure anything for his sake. The thought of him being ashamed of her hurt far, far more than anything the dragon king could inflict with his claws. The thought of him hurting or dead nearly stopped her heart whenever she thought about it.

Ryuunomei knew this. It was why he'd brought it up. She hated him fiercely for that. She could not help loving him, she'd been raised to... but she _chose_ to hate him. He was a horrifically twisted, truly evil person and she knew the world would be better off without him. That fact did not change the one that she loved him. Somehow, she'd managed to make the conflicting sides of her coexist in uneasy peace.

Right now, however, the hatred was winning. Mentioning her father was a deliberately cruel thing to do and it made her angry.

"What about my father?" she asked, struggling to keep her voice flat. By his smirk, she knew that she'd failed to completely suppress the keening note of hope.

"I imagine you miss him. How long has it been since you've seen him?"

The hope burgeoned wildly and she clutched her chest at the pain of the sudden expansion after the clenching of before. "Where is he? May I see him?"

He looked at her, eyes warm and smiling now. "Of course, my dear. I wouldn't dream of keeping family apart."

_Alive! Alive! Oh, Father! _

Dazed, she stumbled after him when he took her hand and led her down a path. It was a clear night, and cold, but there was an air of foreboding hanging over the castle that spoke of fire and death rather than clearness and snow. The earth had been quivering and murmuring to itself all day. It was unsettling, and she did not know what it meant.

"This way, this way, Iza-chan. It isn't far."

_He's alive. I can't believe it. It's been so long... will he be happy to see me? Or will he be angry because I abandoned him? He must have been so ashamed, believing that I ran away with a lover, abandoning my duties. It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, Father, please understand! _

His face swam across her mind, strong-boned and noble, but kind-eyed. She could vividly see the little scar twisting his upper lip that he'd gotten in battle. She'd always loved tracing that scar with a pudgy finger when he carried her.

For the past year, she hadn't allowed herself to think of him at all. Carefully, meticulously, she'd shut him out and protected herself from the pain that thinking of him always brought. She'd missed him with a deep longing that no amount of consolation from friendly villagers or alcohol could bring. Friends were few, far between, and invariably shallow. Alcohol did nothing more than make her think of him even more.

It was only in the last few months, since she'd met Inutaisho and Naruka and the others, that she'd come to an uneasy peace with her heart over that matter. And now the makeshift bandage was torn right off and the wound was exposed to the air, raw and gaping.

_Father..._

"Here we are, Iza-chan," Ryuunomei chirped.

Her vision was blurred with tears, and her ears were roaring. So it was that she missed the strange, crawling tone in his voice and the anticipation in his eyes.

"...Where?" she asked rawly. "_Father?" _

No answer. There was wind, and scent of snow and approaching winter, but no warm voice came through the darkness to save her.

_"_Right here," Ryuunomei said, and led her hand to a wooden shrine at the base of a tree.

For a moment, she stood stock still, shaking hand digging into the wood that housed her father's spirit. Dead. Dead and gone. Ryuunomei had finally made good on his threat. The earth trembled and groaned beneath her feet.

She choked, and for a wild moment thought of attempting to harm the smirking violet-haired demon. However, she knew that she would never land a single blow on him, and that even she did it would hardly hurt more than an outraged kitten batting at his ankles. Instead, she snaked her arms around herself and curled into the tiniest ball she could make.

Perhaps if she was smaller, there would be less of her to hurt.

For a moment, she held everything in perfect stasis, not a muscle moving in the slightest except to crunch herself tighter.

"Hah," Ryuunomei chuckled behind her, softly and mockingly.

Izayoi snapped like frayed rope. Throwing herself over the little wooden building, she began to choke out short, wracking sobs that strained her ribs and tore her throat. Her tears were hot and salty on her cheeks, seeping into the corners of her mouth and dripping off her chin. Her muscles clenched so hard she thought her bones might break.

_It should be raining, _a small part of her mind whispered. _When people in the fairytales weep, it always rains. It should be raining._

Izayoi could feel Ryuunomei's eyes on her heaving back and shook with the need to cause him pain. Her father's ashes were unmoving beneath her fingers. They would never move again, never be a whole, vibrant, loving man again.

_You were supposed to live! _she thought**,** because her voice would not work. _That's why I endured everything that he did to me, to keep you alive! Why are you dead? Why have you gone where I cannot follow? _

She felt... betrayed. The amount of suffering she'd gone through to protect him from the dragon king's attentions was truly horrific. Years and years and years she'd spent under his hands, enduring all manner of suffering, both physical and psychological to protect the man that was now only ashes in a shrine. He was barely a handful now, and totally comfortless.

_Why did I suffer all of that if you were going to die anyways? It isn't fair!_

It was unbearable, too much to keep within herself anymore. She tilted her head back and howled her rage and agony to the silent, dead sky. She could taste blood as her throat ripped and tore with the force of her scream.

Not far away, the mountain heard her pain. Its own was unbearable.

_Scream with me, _the woman seemed to say on the wind. _Join me in my pain. _

The mountain saw no reason not to. Now was as good a time as any. Surrendering at last, it let its own deep roar join her and _released._

Mount Fuji exploded with earth-shattering force, driving pieces of its molten innards into the black, star-ridden night. Miniatures comets of molten stone strove to reach the aloof vault of the night sky, and failing, fell back to hammer blazing into the ground. A long moment after the impact, the rolling, thunderous sound of it hit the dragon's palace and the walls groaned under the force of the shockwave.

Izayoi screamed again, echoing the mountain and completely unafraid. Fire and death was what she _wanted _right then. The mountain was doing what she wished she could, and so she was thankful to it. Distantly, she wondered if it was her own seer's power that had set off the mountain's fury. The timing was far too perfect for mere chance. She did not have great power, but perhaps she had been its catalyst. That was fitting. It seemed she was born to be just that.

The mountain shrieked as it vomited rivers of boiling stone and hissing ash, solid sides heaving with the sheer massive power of its purging. The earth itself bucked and quivered. Rivers overflowed their banks. Trees moaned and tore ravaged roots from the heaving mud. The very air was thrumming with power.

She thanked all the gods that they were far enough away from the mountain's throes of agony to be out of danger.

xxxxx

There were very few times in the history of the world that Ryuunomei had been afraid. This was one of them. The woman stood there with her shoulders thrown back and eyes crackling with purple energy, completely unfazed, while behind her the world tore itself to burning shreds. It was a terrifying demonstration of the power of nature, and the woman's expression was more than a little bemusing.

He took a step back, away from her and the shrine. The slight change in angle nearly killed him as it caused Inutaisho miss his mark and nearly tear him in half, rather than merely incapacitate him.

With all the natural calamity going on around him, it had been easy to miss Inutaisho's _youki_ as he approached. Ryuunomei cursed his lack of vigilance as he fought to regain his breath. A good portion of his side was now missing and he could feel the hot wind on his innards. He would survive. However, recovery would take a long, long time. He raged helplessly, but could not move.

Izayoi lowered her head at Inutaisho's approach. "Why have you come?" she asked eerily, power still surging through her eyes in violet light.

"Ask me later," he replied, and held out his hand. "We must hurry before his guards or his brother arrive. We are not yet prepared to deal with the consequences of his death and his brother's subsequent revenge attempts. We must bide our time, and that means we must leave _now._"

"He killed my father," she choked, stroking the shrine.

He paused for a moment, then shook his head. "I am sorry. Please come with me."

She shook her head and clenched her fists. "I'm going to kill him," she snarled, and looked wildly around for a weapon.

"We need to leave!"

She found a branch on the ground and inspected it. It was not suitable, and she threw it down to continue her hunt. "Weapon... weapon..."

He sighed and narrowed his eyes. It was time for desperate measures. "_Izayoi!" _

_Izayoi! Izayoi! Izayoi!_

The name echoed through the vault of storm clouds and she froze disbelievingly. "You..."

Satisfied that he had her attention, he held out his hand again. "Please?"

"Inutaisho..." she whispered, the light fading from her eyes. She suddenly looked very small and bedraggled, standing in the rain, vulnerable and heart-wrenchingly sad.

He smiled at her, a real, genuine smile. "They are all waiting for you, Izayoi."

There it was again... her name, on his tongue. She thought she understood, now, why he'd never said it before-- on his lips, it sounded like a caress. It sounded intimate and gentle and passionate and she thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard.

She looked over her shoulder at the personification of her horrific past, gasping in the bloody dirt around him. She loved him. She always would. There was really nothing she could do to change that, and so she gave up trying. Instead, she let Inutaisho's voice give her the courage to look forwards rather than back for the first time in her life.

"Take me home," she said softly, and walked into his arms.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Mountain go boom.


	22. Coalescence

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXII: Coalescence**_

**xxxxx**

_Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight_

_Got to kick at the darkness til it bleeds daylight_

-Barenaked Ladies, 'Lovers in a Dangerous Time'

"Damn," Ryuunomei rasped from his futon_. _Even the slight effort of moving his lungs sent clawing agony through his side, which was healing far more slowly than he'd expected. Inutaisho's poison, though not as terrible as his son's, was evidently a force to be reckoned with. The dragon family and the dog family had been enemies for a very long time, but Ryuunomei had always managed to avoid Inutaisho's blows... until this time.

However, that pain was a minor concern at the moment for the Dragon King. He had a serious problem, one that showed no signs of going away any time soon. It was a terrible problem, and he was feeling utterly miserable because of it.

Ryuunomei was developing a conscience.

Normally, the events of the past week would have had him screaming for vengeance and gathering his forces for a brutal counter-attack. Normally, he would have pushed his damaged body to the limit to achieve his retaliation. Normally, he would have wanted to disembowel those who dared to lay a finger on him.

He was forced to conclude that his mind had been damaged somehow by the blow to his side, because he felt barely even the slightest inclination to go after Izayoi and make her pay for his humiliation. It was extremely disturbing for him to realize this, for his lack of conscience had always been a point of pride for him. He had loved every minute of being a cold, ruthless killer and a sadistic predator. Being an abomination suited him. Thus, finding out that there was a part of him that was not so terrible was discomfiting and made him angry.

_Why can't I get angry about this? Why don't I want to torture and kill them slowly? Why don't I want vengeance? Because... I don't want her to hate me anymore._

The light from the shoji dimmed. The sun had set on another day of inaction. He clenched his fist and hissed when the movement irritated his wound. He wished with all his heart for his old resolve and heartlessness to return, but it remained stubbornly absent.

"Nii-sama?"

Ryuunomei sighed. "What is it now?"

"It is time to change your dressings." Ryuukotsusei entered the room, followed by a dimunitive maid.

Without turning his head, Ryuunomei identified the servant as Tomiko, one of his favorites. She smelled of hazelnuts and walked like a mouse. She pleased him. "Very well, then. Hurry up."

The maid silently shuffled forwards with her bundle of white fabric and set to work. The pain was very bad.

"Nii-sama..."

"What?" Ryuunomei barked at his younger brother.

"Forgive me for asking, but..."

The Dragon King knew what was coming now. It was a predictable pattern, and one he was growing heartily tired of. His brother would ask him how he was feeling...

"Are you feeling any better?"

"Not particularly."

Then, he would ask when Ryuunomei suspected he would be well again...

"When do you think you'll be healed, nii-sama?"

"Whenever I'm finished healing."

And finally, the question Ryuunomei was absolutely sick of.

"When you are healed, what do you plan to do?"

Ryuunomei wished he _was _healed just so that he could get up and slaughter his brother. It was not a question he wanted to think about at all. If he was to remain in character, he would have to gather his forces, track down his attackers, and make them suffer for as long as possible before murdering them. The personality he'd painstakingly developed over the millennia of his life demanded immediate retaliation.

"Go away."

"Nii-sama! You cannot allow this to go unanswered!"

_"Blast!" _Ryuunomei shouted as the servant girl tightened the bandages. "That hurts, you little whore!"

"I am sorry, Ryuunomei-sama. Please forgive me."

"Just...finish your job and leave," he growled in ill temper.

She did not seem to even notice his ire. "Yes, my lord."

"Nii-sama..."

"Little brother, if you ask me that question one more time, I swear I will eviscerate you." He narrowed his eyes and with great effort tilted his head to meet his brother's eyes, and added menacingly; "With an unpolished chopstick."

Ryuukotsusei froze for moment, then bowed stiffly. "As you wish. I will not ask again. However, please think on it."

"Fine, fine. Just leave me alone!"

"There are some matters that require your attention."

"I am going to kill you."

His brother was unfazed. "Very well. After you look at these."

It was a very long hour of poring over lengthy, pretentious reports on scrolls and trying to think of solutions to unsolvable and decidedly petty issues. When it was over, Ryuunomei was exhausted from the effort of pretending to care. Entire villages had been wiped out by Mount Fuji's eruption. There were refugees everywhere, and they were causing economic strain on the towns they were fleeing to. Nobody was equipped to deal with thousands of hungry, homeless people. Problems abounded, and Ryuunomei could not bring himself to give even an iota of concern to the matter.

"You know, nii-sama, if you would just answer the question, I would stop asking."

Ryuunomei clenched his knuckles and bit his lip until it bled. "When I am healed, we will begin to plan. There is no rush, so if you ever ask me that again, I will remove your fingers one by one, dip them in wasabi, and make you swallow them. Understood?"

"You're in a good mood today, nii-sama."

"No, I am not!"

"You never make jokes when you are in a bad mood."

Ryuunomei narrowed his eyes and whispered silkily "You're right... I don't. I am in a very bad mood. I don't joke when I'm in a bad mood. You may be slow, but I'm sure even you can figure out what that equates to."

Ryuukotsusei heaved a gusty, long-suffering sigh and furled the scroll of his report. "I see am not going to get anywhere with you today again. I will return tomorrow."

"Don't bother."

The _shoji _slid near-silently shut behind Ryuukotsusei's retreating back, and Ryuunomei exhaled slowly in relief. It was getting harder and harder to hedge his way around that question, and he wasn't ready to answer it yet.

The land was in shambles-- as lord of the kingdom, it was his first duty to rectify that. Thus, before he could mount any sort of retaliation attempt against the West, he would have to get his own land back on its feet. That would take a couple of months. By then, Ryuunomei hoped to be fully recovered and able to accompany the expedition himself. That is, if he ever found the motivation to mount an expedition in the first place.

No matter how long and hard he rationalized with himself, he could not seem to make himself _want _revenge. He had nearly died, and was suffering a great deal because of his enemy and that accursed woman. Inutaisho had dared to trespass, dared to wound him, dared to take his possession; any one of which would normally be enough to send the Dragon King berserk. And yet...

_I'm tired. Tired of scheming, tired of conquering, tired of fighting. I'm tired of being hated. I'm tired of having to watch my back every moment of every day for assassins. I'm tired of having all this responsibility. I suppose... I'm just tired of being myself. Maybe a good month's rest will cure me of this strange, uncomfortable lethargy. Or perhaps, maybe not. Either way... I don't believe I'm going to do anything strenuous for a little while. _

He smiled slightly.

_Enjoy this respite, Inutaisho, Izayoi. It won't last forever. Eventually, I'll return to my normal self and come after you. Then you will suffer, and die. So live every day to its fullest... count every second as precious. You have so few left._

xxxxx

_Earlier_

xxxxx

There was a story in the shadows of his hair, and Izayoi could not tear herself away. It billowed in the wind animatedly as they flew, his strong hands tight around her thighs and her arms clutching his chest though she did not fear falling anymore. It was cold where they were sailing, among the drifting clouds and stars, but he emanated heat and she was not chilled.

Her heart was strangely peaceful, high above the turmoil behind her. Had she been on the ground, she thought she might have been crying and confused, unsure of whether she'd done the right thing in leaving her beloved lord lying in a pool of his own blood. She thought she might have felt somewhat guilty for leaving him there alone, without guarantee of survival.

She felt neither.

What Izayoi felt was happy. Really, truly happy for the first time she could remember since her very early childhood. Up here, where the only voices were that of the winds, she had found a quiet place to rest in and allow herself to stop worrying for a while. Until they landed, there was nothing that could or would happen to her-- it was a sort of beautiful limbo that she would have happily stayed in for the rest of her life if Inutaisho could have flown forever for her.

He could not, and so after a while they began to descend towards the darkened earth, away from the moon. Neither of them had said a word during the entire flight. As they sank, a moment of vertigo had her eyes believing that they were not descending, but that the earth was rising up to swallow them. She tightened her arms around him, and felt his answering squeeze on her thighs. Izayoi smiled and pressed her face into his silver banner of hair.

She thought she had never been so thoroughly rescued in her life.

They touched down in the middle of a silent, sleeping campsite. Sleeping, except for Sesshoumaru, that was.

"Chichi-ue," the grim young youkai said. "I see you were successful."

Inutaisho only nodded, seemingly still unwilling to break the precious silence between him and the woman sliding off his back. When she felt steady on her feet, she stopped leaning on him, but did not move away. Though it was marginally warmer down on the ground, it was still early winter. The wind spoke of frost and ice when it blew from the north.

Katsuro, seasoned battle veteran that he was, bolted awake at the sound of Sesshoumaru's voice. "Who? What?" He squinted into the darkness beyond the firelight. "Who's there?"

Izayoi cleared her throat, moved far more than she thought she'd be by the sound of his voice and sight of his muzzy, confused face. "Katsuro...san," she managed to choke out.

In the blink of an eye, he went from sleep-fogged and whimsical to wide awake and serious. "Izayoi-hime?"

Her eyes burned and she laughed. "Don't call me that," she whispered, and dashed away the threatening tears.

"By all the gods!" he shouted joyously. "Everyone, get up! She's back!" He leaped out of his bedroll, pounded across the clearing, and enveloped her in a very warm, affectionate embrace.

The tears spilled over and she felt her limbs loosen bonelessly. She had forgotten what it was like to have real friends, friends that cared about her well-being and continued existence. There was no falsity in Katsuro's hug-- the affection and camaraderie in his hug was real and unfeigned. She found herself suddenly unable to speak.

"_Aneue!_" called a tearful feminine voice from behind Katsuro's shoulder, followed a moment later by Sakenmaru's jovial shout of "Welcome back!"

Izayoi could not breathe through the emotions suffocating her. She hadn't realized just how much she'd missed all of her new friends. How they'd grown so dear to her in such a short time when the 'friends' she'd had in the dragon castle that she'd spent years with had never even reached this level. However, she was not complaining at all. She had never been so happy in her entire life, childhood included. Encircled in a warm clutch of arms and tears, she felt safe and loved and strong. Naruka was behind her, arms tight around her waist and face buried in Izayoi's back while she wept. Sakenmaru was laughing and had his arms around the three of them, being big enough to hold them all.

They were a tight knot of flesh and joy and love and she never, ever wanted to move.

xxxxx

Inutaisho stood aside in the shadows with his son, watching quietly.

"Tell me what happened," Sesshoumaru said.

Inutaisho had to remember how to speak, and coughed a few times before figuring it out. "I came," he replied, "I sliced Ryuunomei nearly in half, took Izayoi, and left."

"You did not kill him, did you?"

"No. I know we are not ready for the war yet. He moved, else he would not have been so grievously wounded."

"That would have been unfortunate. The army is assembled, but completely untrained. I still do not agree with this idea of yours, by the way. It seems more than a little insane to my eyes."

"Ah." Inutaisho's mind was ten feet away from his mouth with the huddled group of people. His back and hands still tingled from where their bodies had been touching. She was crying, swallowed and tiny within the shield of flesh her friends formed.

"Chichi-ue, is there something wrong?" Sesshoumaru asked warily. "You seem distant. Are you paying attention?"

"There is nothing wrong, Sesshoumaru," Inutaisho said quietly. "I have just recently had some revelations, and I am still trying to assimilate them. Forgive me."

"Revelations?"

Inutaisho did not answer, opting instead to continue watching the joyful reunion in the firelight. The happiness on Izayoi's face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

On the silent return flight, he'd come to understand a few things about himself and about her, and about _them. _ First and foremost, that there _was _a 'them.' No matter what happened next, he knew that he would eventually have to deal with the fact that he was bound to her, both willingly and helplessly. The more time he spent in her company, the more he wanted to spend as much time as possible with her in the future. The energy that poured off of her was intoxicating. Though he still could not quite lay a finger on exactly what it was, something about her made him willing to do anything to keep her smiling.

That was the second revelation. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, he'd grown to love the fragile, broken woman before him, who had saved him and his people at her own risk. She was a paradox-- fragile, yes, but also strong: ugly and flawed in many ways, but beautiful in the whole. The warped and weakened parts of her soul only lent themselves to the grand design, which he finally thought he was beginning to grasp.

The third revelation was that he knew what the third sword to the celestial trilogy was for, at long last. Sou'unga he would try to hide or dispose of when he died-- it was far too dangerous to leave in the hands of future generations. Tenseiga he had already planned to leave with Sesshoumaru. The healing sword was half-sentient and had a habit of demanding to be used, on occasion, and Inutaisho wanted more than anything to have it teach Sesshoumaru the mercy he lacked. The sword of Hell and the sword of Heaven had their places already-- only the sword of Earth was left.

Toutousai would be thrilled. He had been waiting to forge the last sword for decades, needing only its purpose to complete its design. Inutaisho now had that. Also, with its purpose had come its name. There was nothing left but to go to Toutousai, give him a fang to work with, and let the magic swordsmith do his work. Inutaisho was relieved to finally be able to complete his great commission, and knew Toutousai would be equally glad.

He looked over at the woman that the sword would be forged to protect, and smiled a deep, secret smile.

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru, who was watching, felt a vague sense of foreboding at the sight.

**xxxxx**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying it!


	23. Confession

**A/N-- **Huge thank you goes out to my beloved beta-reader, **ALF**, for her work on this chapter. The first half of it gave me a lot of trouble and was absolute excrement until she smartened me up. It's better now, but still undergoing edits so bear with me on this.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Inuyasha. All I own is my imagination, but that's more than enough for me.

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXIII: Confession**_

**xxxxx**

.

.

.

The morning after the rescue, Izayoi woke late to a bustling campsite and the taste of winter in the air. The colours of the world seemed muted and grey. The sky, usually a deep and vibrant shade of blue, was pale and washed out like old fabric, and the sun itself had an ashen glow. There was one solitary finch in a tree, chirping solemnly. All the others had journeyed for warmer climes not long before.

She sat slowly up and rubbed the crust of sleep from her eyes. It became immediately apparent to her that something was not right. Her friends bustled about the campsite busily, making breakfast and stoking the fire, or were hunched over maps, planning the route for the day. Naruka was turning over the roasting vegetables on the fire. Sakenmaru was hunting for firewood. Katsuro had the aforementioned maps, and Sesshoumaru was doing his usual 'pretend I am not here' routine in a tree nearby. But where was...?

"Naruka-chan?" she murmured muzzily.

The priestess looked up from her task and smiled. "Welcome back to the world of the living, _aneue. _Do you need something?"

"Where's Inutaisho?" she asked, feeling his absence keenly.

Naruka's face grew hooded and her smile died.

Something twisted in Izayoi's chest.

"Izayoi, he left," the priestess began uncomfortably. "For three weeks. He didn't tell anyone but Sesshoumaru where he was going, or why. Said it was a secret."

"Three _weeks?" _Izayoi howled, stunned and suddenly very much awake. "He left for three weeks without saying goodbye or saying where he was going? That...!" The words of frustration died in her mouth and she bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat.

They'd shared something on that return flight that she felt sure not even he could deny, and she'd been hoping to come to some conclusion about it with his help. That would be rather difficult to do if he was not present to talk to! His abrupt departure left her staggering and off balance, unsure of where to step next. It was aggravating, not knowing where she stood with him and vice versa. The time for games and dancing around each other had come to an end, and she _knew _he understood that.

So where was he, and why had he gone?

"Calm down, Izayoi-hime_,_" Katsuro said from across the campfire, tearing himself away from his beloved maps. "He told Sesshoumaru where he was going, so if there's an emergency we can reach him. Nobody else knows where he is, so there's little danger of anyone tracking him down and doing him harm. There is no need to worry about him."

"What makes you think I'm worried about _him_?" She was in fact much more worried about their own safety in his absence, knowing what was most likely coming behind them.

Katsuro understood her concern. "We'll be fine with Sesshoumaru. He may not be his father's equal just yet, but he is more than powerful enough to counteract any threat coming against us in the next couple of days."

Sesshoumaru's silence was very loud, to indicate just what he thought of the phrase 'not his father's equal just yet.'

"Wait... couple of days? I thought you said three weeks?" Izayoi hugged her sides and furrowed her brow to fend off the nasty feeling of confusion. The feeling of abandonment she shoved deep into her gut, to be dealt with later. It formed a stone in her belly that made her slightly nauseous, but she steadfastly ignored it in favour of finding out what the _hell _was going on.

Sakenmaru cut in. "While you were gone, we concocted a plan. It will take a few days to put in place, though. Once it's done, we should be reasonably safe."

"Plan...?" Izayoi asked, feeling rather left behind. "How much did I miss, exactly?"

Naruka walked up and put a gentle hand on Izayoi's shoulder. "Quite a lot, actually. I'll explain as we walk. The army should be almost there already, so we need to get going."

"The army? Where's it going?"

Patiently, Naruka linked her arm through the very confused seer's and began to walk, thus effectively setting her in motion as well. Izayoi was silently grateful for the shared warmth-- winter had well and truly arrived, and the air smelled of snow. Frost-encrusted vegetation crunched beneath their feet, and the fine mist of melting rime drifting down from silvered tree branches made the air thick and foggy.

"As I was just about to explain... with Sesshoumaru's help, we've located a reasonably large valley in a well hidden place in the mountains. We're relocating the army there for as much training in fighting demons as we can manage before the dragons come after us."

Izayoi stopped and held up her free hand. "That would make sense if it was any other enemy but this one, but with Ryuunomei-sama's magical abilities, he won't have any trouble finding us. In addition to that, Inutaisho did a lot of damage to him when he rescued me-- I have little doubt that he'll be coming after us now rather than later. Which means we have a grand total of three weeks or so while his wounds heal before he's on our tail. Hiding in a remote valley won't do any good unless you have some way of hiding it magically too..." Izayoi trailed off, still confused.

Naruka was laughing.

"What?"

"If you would just let me talk for a minute," Naruka giggled, "I would maybe be able to finish explaining?"

"You weren't done?" Izayoi blushed, blood rushing to her chilled cheeks. "Oh! I'm sorry, please continue."

Naruka only smiled at her embarrassment, looked ahead, and kept talking. "As I was saying... that's where you come in. With my _miko _abilities and your own magical strength, we should be able to perform this new spell I created. If it works, it will create a sort of spherical barrier around the entire valley. It won't stop anything from coming in, as that would take more power than all of us have combined, but it will make any searching eyes slide right over the valley without finding anything out of place. An illusion, of sorts, but better."

Izayoi, needless to say, was very impressed. "That's a _really _good idea."

"Thank you." Naruka smiled, obviously pleased. "On top of that, I've already taken steps to ensure that nobody but the leader of the army in Katsuro's absence knows where it is or how to get to it. Anyone who tries to get there without having been told by one of us specifically where it is will get magically lost and walk in circles until they give up. Trust me-- while you were gone, we thought about it long and hard from every angle. We don't think there's any major loopholes. It should hold strong for quite a long while, long enough at least to train the army well enough to get the job done."

Izayoi sobered and looked down. "Good. I want as few of them to die as possible. I know they have their own reasons for fighting, so I don't feel too terribly guilty about using them, but still... I don't want to see anyone die. There's already been so much blood around this whole thing."

They both fell silent, remembering unbidden the red fields of northern Shikoku as they'd passed over on their way south after the destruction of the barrier. The barrier of mana had been merciless. People living near it on the side of the buildup were subjected to a saturation of their entire body of mana, and then an oversaturation. Dying from the bursting of the mana banks within one's body looked physically much like having every vein in the body exploded from within. It was a grotesque and hideous death, and Shikoku had seen thousands of them. It was a wasteland that would take years to recover, if it ever did.

"Rest assured, if we have our way, as we intend to, most of them should survive. Never before have humans been trained in killing demons by demons. That gives us a distinct advantage, as the dragons won't even _think _of the possibility of us using humans to fight them. They'll be looking elsewhere. Sakenmaru guarantees it. Right?"

"Yes, my dear," Sakenmaru confirmed. "I have known Ryuunomei long enough to know that at least. And with your spells, he shouldn't even hear of the army's assembly until it's far too late to find them. The army brought their families along this time on our recommendation, so there isn't even anyone for them to hold ransom against us with. The valley has enough resources combined with what the army is bringing with them in wagons to sustain us for nearly a year. If ever we run low, we can also run the risk of sending a small, well-guarded party out for supplies."

Izayoi began to accept the thought that the plan just might work. "So that's where we're going, then. Where are all those people going to sleep? There's a good ten thousand of them!"

"There is a large cave system in the mountains of the valley, and since we'll be there for a while we'll also be building a fair number of rough lodgings. All of this has been put to them already, and they're more than ready to get started. Their willingness to work hard and live rough is very admirable to me. They surprise me at every turn."

There was a long silence, broken only by the drip of dew off leaves and the gentle thuds of their footprints on the now mostly thawed earth. The air, though now crisp and fresh, felt heavy on their heads.

"That's what revenge will do to you," Izayoi said softly, suddenly. "They'd be willing to sleep in the mud for three years with only maggot-infested rice to eat if it meant they could avenge their fallen kin in Shikoku and northern Kyushu. And that is why I fear Ryuunomei-sama's retaliation. The need for revenge is that powerful."

xxxxx

"You again!" Toutousai grumbled upon greeting the exhausted inuyoukai. "What do you want?"

Toutousai's volcanic cave was as unpleasant as ever, belching smoke and steam and surrounded by a mountainside of cracked, barren dirt. Inutaisho would have gladly been anywhere else, but he had a mission to accomplish. "I know the Sword of Earth's name and purpose," he said without preamble. "I need it done in less than a month."

The astonished fire demon gaped at him for a long moment, then frowned menacingly. "You can't just walk in and say something like that! Things like this take _time _and _preparation..."_

_"_Save your rant for later. Right now, I need that sword. And it cannot take as long as Tenseiga did."

Toutousai was livid. "Listen here, you little runt! I am a master of my craft! You are supposed to _beg _me to make you a sword and be willing to wait as long as it damn well takes to do it!"

The dog demon was having none of it. He crossed his arms and stared the decidedly shorter demon down. "Toutousai," he growled, "we both know that you have been waiting for this for centuries. You cannot resist the temptation of one-upping your ancient rival, Sou'unga's creator. You know he will be furious if he sees from beyond death that you got to create _two _of the trilogy while he only got to make one. You will be remembered far more heroically than he will if you make it. I know you, old man, and I know that despite all your blustering you cannot wait to get started. So please, just forge the sword now and grumble later."

"Impudent whelp," the swordsmith grumbled, knowing he had lost. The chance to top his late rival Mihoujin's accomplishments truly _was _irresistable. He sighed heavily and picked up a great pair of tongs, nearly as tall as he was. "Go on then, get outside and do your thing."

Inutaisho smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes, turned, and strode out of the cave. Once there, he transformed into his greater demonic form and stoically endured the agony as the now-tiny smith wrenched out one of his fangs by the root.

Transforming back, he followed Toutousai back into the cave.

Back inside, he dropped momentarily into a shallow form of meditation to deal with the sensory barrage that was the forge. His sensitive nose was shrieking in pain at the acrid stench of heated metal and vaporizing impurities. The arrhythmic clanging of the hammer assaulted his ears. The sweltering heat made him itch. In short, the forge was probably the least pleasant place he'd ever spent any length of time in.

"How long do you think before the sword is done?" he asked hopefully once he'd gotten his senses back under control.

The swordsmith smiled wickedly, knowing exactly the source of the dog demon's discomfort. "So impatient! I told you earlier, since I've already had the plans in my head for such a long time, it won't take nearly as long as Tenseiga did. At most, two weeks. Then I need to show you how to use it, which with your quick head for learning should only take another week."

Inutaisho smiled in satisfaction at his accurate estimate of the time he would be gone. "Wonderful. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get out of this air before my nose falls off."

"Harrumph." Toutousai tried desperately to repress a grin and failed.

The tortured dog demon escaped thankfully into the sharp winter air and flew far enough away from the cave that he could no longer hear the hammer. He found a nice little sheltered ledge on the next mountain over, looking out onto a sea of frozen trees. The coldest season had arrived at last, and looked to be settling in for a long stay. He burrowed a seat in the snowbank covering the ledge and got comfortable. It was cold but not nearly as unbearable as the heat within the forge-cave.

For a while, he simply watched the winter-birds fly and felt the earth falling asleep around him. It was peaceful and serene, without any hint of the chaos about to be unleashed upon it when all the preparations on both sides were complete. The world had fire and death in its future, but right now knew nothing of that. It was silent and silver-blue, and innocent. It soothed him to look at it.

However, with nothing to do for two weeks stretching ahead of him, his thoughts inevitably turned to Izayoi, a much less calming topic.

_What to do about her?_ he mused wryly. She was like a pleasurable disease-- corrosive, all-invasive, and welcome. Every cell of his body was joyfully addicted to her presence, and he could not bring himself to mind overmuch anymore.

But... there was always the fact of her species. It wasn't her relative lack of power compared to him. It really wasn't. In fact, her physical frailty only made him want to protect her all the more, like a fragile night-blooming blossom that could not bear the wind. However, he realized as soon as he pictured it that the analogy was inaccurate. She was strong, in her own way. He did not forget that she had saved his life. Then what was it that made it so hard to allow himself to get closer to her? It seemed so... irrational.

He curled up in the warm softness of the pale demon pelt that hung down his back.

The question enticed him. What was it about humans that had caused the youkai in the very beginning to make relationship with them taboo?

He refused to believe it was simply because of their lack of destructive power. That was far too shallow, far too transient. The real reason had to be deeper than that. Much deeper.

Neither could it be that humans were too different from _youkai_. They weren't, not really. They all felt the same emotions, wanted the same things. Strangely enough, the higher level the _youkai, _the more similar to humans they became, as though... almost as though being human was the ultimate goal. Which was, of course, impossible. However, the parallel was disquieting indeed. The more powerful the demon, the more humanlike...

Except in lifespan.

Something was niggling at him related to that, and he chased it through the pulsing shadowed halls of his mind. That was the greatest difference between high level _youkai _and humans, other than sheer destructive power: lifespan. Humans had short, brilliant lives that ended before the world had time to notice they were there. Demon's lives stretched on across ages, until seasons blurred and the difference between individual days vanished altogether.

What would be the fate of any demon and human who dared to be together?

Tragedy, of course.

Humans would age and die before demons ever truly had the chance to love them in the ageless, deep way that demons preferred to love. Their prime would pass in mere eyeblinks, and they would spend the majority of their lives wrinkled and unlovely. Their minds would fade, if they were lucky enough to even have time to decline. They would decay bit by bit until eventually their veins and muscles and flesh became too tired to carry them any longer. They would fall apart while the demon, still perfect and radiant, could only watch and grieve.

That was it, Inutaisho realized in a blinding agony of enlightenment.

Relationship with humans could only ever lead to grief for the demon half of the union. There could be no other outcome. A brief, passionate flame, and then decay and death. Just as terrible, the human half would have to feel themselves die a little, day by day, while their lovers remained eternally perfect and desirable. It would ruin them, their fragile egos that endlessly sought comfort in equality with each other.

Married human couples of decades were comfortable only because they could feel their partners rotting along with them, losing their beauty and vivacity at the same frightening rate. It made them feel like they were not alone, if their partner aged at the same rushed rate. Demons would not be able to comfort them that way, being perfect whether or not they wanted to be.

That was why relationship with humans was taboo. It was because it never ended well. The old rule was there to _protect _both sides, _not _to make humans inferior! They had misinterpreted gravely the true meaning and intention of it.

He pictured life as it would have to be with Izayoi.

For a decade or so, it would be wonderful, brilliant, shining. They would love with all the fire of their beings, with all the power their souls possess. They would revel in each other's beauty, exploring, touching, tasting, worshipping. Their love would be like a prayer to the divine presence, worded in their own ecstasy.

Then, she would begin to age. Her limbs would deteriorate until walking became painful. Her face and skin would droop with weariness and lose their glow. Her hair would turn grey and ashen like the bones of dead fires. She would look at him and see only what she once had and lost. Envy and inferiority would become her bedmates, lying always between him and her.

And then... she would die, and he would have nothing.

He remembered Mai's death. He remembered the way he had lost all will to live, but for his newborn son who needed him. He remembered feeling as though he had lost half his flesh, half of his limbs, half of everything that really mattered. The world had turned to shades of grey and lost all beauty, all colour, all warmth and shine and radiance. He had died with her, and learned to live again only through necessity.

Izayoi's presence dragged him bodily back into the painful glory of living. Colours were so sharp when she was near him, they hurt his eyes. Living was beautiful, but it hurt.

He had loved Mai with all his heart. That was something he would never doubt or question. Their love had been bright and beautiful, and everlasting. It had also been tranquil and calm. There had been no great highs of passion, no soul-destroying lows of anger and rejection. The river of their love had been glassy, free of turbulence. They had been the best of friends, but hardly the best of lovers. They had never met the divine in their worship of each other.

Izayoi could give him that. The short candle of her life was fierce and volatile, and would drag him along for the ride whether he was willing to follow or not. She could take him to paradise, and show him hell.

Mai's death had _nearly_ killed him. Izayoi's would kill him without any doubt. He knew that if he chose to follow her and let her show him the prismatic transience of human existence, losing her and it would mortally wound him. If he chose to love her, his days were numbered exactly as hers were. He would not outlive her by any discernable length of time.

Was it worth the risk?

_Yes._

Was it worth it, losing centuries or millennia of life just to experience mere moments of true living?

_Yes._

Was it worth it, the pain and grief that would come from watching her die little by little every day, without being able to do anything? Was it worth the feelings of impotence and desperation that loving her would bring?

_Yes. A thousand times, yes. _

The proud demon lord of the West looked the Truth in the face and knelt in reluctant surrender. It was time for confession.

He took a deep mental breath and watched the snowflakes fall. There was no one near to witness his downfall, he knew, but old thought patterns and attitudes died hard. He buried his claws in his palms and closed his eyes. The time for running and hiding had come and gone. Now it was time to stand and accept.

_I love her_, he thought to himself.Surprisingly, the thought was not painful as he had thought it would be. It felt... relieving. Denial was hard work-- this was _easy. _Encouraged, he continued, falling deeper and deeper into the truth.

_I love her._

Still no pain. Her face floated through his mind, sad and keenly beautiful. His heart twisted.

_I love her more than I can find words for, almost more than I can find feeling for. She is the most beautiful, flawed, evanescent, doomed thing I have ever seen. _

He felt as though he was being bathed in cold river water, and all the black dirt of his flawed beliefs were peeling away and floating off. He let go of all his fear and allowed himself to simply _feel. _

_I want to touch her. _

_I want to know her. _

_I want to understand her, everything about her. _

_I want to kiss her and feel her surrender to me, feel her trusting me._

_I want to make love to her until the gods themselves bear witness to the sacredness of our union. _

_I want to argue with her until the walls tremble._

_I want to watch her grow old. _

_I want to hold her as she dies, and follow her down into darkness. _

_I want to follow wherever she goes, and I want to lead her to places she would never have seen without me. _

_I want to live forever with her, despite all the things about her that should disgust me. Despite all the things about her that I should feel nothing but disdain for._

_I love her. _

_I __**choose**__ to love her. _

There. That was the center of it, the middle of everything. Loving her was not an emotion he felt. It was something he _did_. Love, real love, was not a mere transient feeling. Love was an action, and he chose with a clear mind to practice it.

_I have decided to practice loving her... even when I don't feel like it, even when I'm not feeling it. I have decided to give her everything. _

_Why? _

_I do not know. If I listen very hard, I can hear the gods telling me that I should not know why. It is one of life's great mysteries. So be it. I love her, and I choose to love her._

He resigned himself to an early death.

The fact that he was inextricably bound to her whether he wanted to be or not was already determined and undeniable. The option of pushing her away was no longer open to him.

So, what to do when he returned to the valley, to her?

He felt more at peace than he had since Mai's death. He knew exactly where he stood and what he wanted, for the first time in a very, very long time. But what of her? Did _she _know what she wanted?

And if she did, was he part of it? He had finally admitted to himself that he wanted her, but did she want him back? He thought so. She had certainly given him enough non-verbal hints that she did. Unless he'd somehow forgotten everything he'd ever learned about how to interpret human behaviour, she desired him just as much as he desired her. His nose could not lie, and her desire smelled like lilies. It was impossible to miss. His attentions would not be unwelcome.

But should he take the initiative? Or should he wait for her to come to her own realizations, and approach him on her own? Should he sweep her off her feet, or wait for her to come to terms with the horror that was her ancient past as a _child_ at the hands of Ryuunomei, and the horror that was her recent past as a _woman_ at the hand of Ryuunomei? Should he drive her helplessly into the chaos of emotion that was love, or should he wait for her to be well and truly ready?

_No._

She would never be 'ready.' Readiness was an illusion. No one was _ever _ready to love truly, deeply, passionately. It came upon people unawares and made them forget their fears and insecurities and egos. There was no point waiting for something that would never happen.

He pictured his return to her.

_Izayoi? I... desire you. _No. Too uncertain, too wavering and fearful.

_Izayoi: I want you. _No. Too overbearing and inconsiderate.

_I love you. You are mine and I will give you everything. _Too apologetic and explanatory, as though he needed an excuse to love her deeply.

_I love you. I desire you. You are mine. _

He would return and hunt her down amidst the seething mass of army. Then he would pull her into the nearest empty tent. Then, he would put his hands on her shoulders, look deeply into her eyes, and say his piece.

And then... he would wait for her reaction and subsequent decision. Calmly.

He felt like killing something to take his mind off the possibility of a negative reply.

_'Calm' my foot. I have never been so terrified in my life. Do not think. Do not think!_

He dropped into meditation and cleared his mind before he could lose it. The frightening thoughts dissipated.

He suddenly realized how cold he was. The snow was melting and soaking whatever part of him touched it, and any part of him that was not covered by the pelt was numb. It was definitely time to go back inside, despite the sensory overload waiting there.

He stood up and smiled. It felt _good _to know how he felt.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	24. Firelight

**A/N: **This chapter contains sexual content. Beta credit goes to **ALF** and **lotus faerie**.

Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXIV: Firelight**_

**xxxxx**

"Close your eyes."

Naruka and Izayoi sat facing each other on a cave lip high up the side of the lush valley. Below them, the army's men were industriously building barracks and the women were carrying out the various odd jobs that needed to be done, such a cooking for the men and mapping the extensive cave system. There was nobody who was not doing work of some sort. It was like a giant anthill.

Izayoi obediently shut her eyes.

"Do you remember how it felt when you lent me your power for freeing Sakenmaru-sama?"

The seer nodded slowly. Her power leapt within her breast, beating eagerly at her ribcage. It _wanted _to be used. It had been building up over the last long while, and was frustrated at the lack of use she'd put it to. There was now almost too much to contain, since she'd continued to generate it even though she wasn't using it. She now had power to spare. Hopefully, enough to pull of Naruka's risky new spell.

She felt the priestess' cool hands slip into hers, joining the circle. "You don't have to really do anything. Just leave it to me and keep feeding me power. Don't overdo it, though. We'll still need you afterwards, so don't burn yourself out."

"I understand. Go ahead."

Flames of pale lilac and celadon green flared to life around them, twining like ethereal serpents about each other. The magic was engaged. Now, to shape it.

Naruka began to chant slowly in a half-singsong. Her voice wavered for a moment, then dropped a half-tone, and suddenly the land began to resonate with her, multiplying the sound a thousandfold. The trees shivered in time, the cliff walls buzzed deeply and the air around them tremored excitedly.

Izayoi's very bones began to vibrate in synchronicity with the strange, deep sound.

_It's working!_

The words Naruka slowly repeated made little sense when consciously thought about, but when Izayoi simply let the sound flow through her ears, they put her in mind of images and concepts. She wrinkled her brow in confusion. The images seemed to have nothing to do with shield-building at all. Why were these images important? What did they mean? They flashed through her mind almost too quickly to be caught and examined.

_Eagle's wings._

_Red shores._

_Cold wind._

_Trees breathing._

_Dead things beneath the earth._

_Clouds and rain._

_Thunder and splitting rock._

_A sword's edge._

_Candle flame._

_Strains of shamisen music._

_The smell of old scrolls._

_Warm, flowing water._

Izayoi became lost in the images and feelings the priestess was summoning. _Why? _she thought muzzily, but she lost the ability to think in coherent words the next moment.

_Now!_ Naruka cried silently. _Lend me your strength, aneue!_

Incapable of speech, Izayoi obeyed wordlessly, releasing the strained barrier on her power. It burst out of her and into the vaguely shining form of her sister sitting opposite her.

Naruka gasped and inhaled it, weaving it around her own power and manipulating it into a complex, lace-like framework. The slowly forming structure began to look like a bowl, then eventually, a gleaming sphere. It was only about the size of Naruka's lap.

The resonance deepened another two and half tones until the very world seemed to quiver and thrum. _Almost. The structure is complete. Now to..._

_Brace me, aneue!_

Izayoi clenched her teeth and summoned all her power, then poured it ferociously into the priestess.

The shining net of power suddenly expanded at a ridiculous speed, shrieking through the air until it encompassed the entire valley in a glowing network of structured mana. _Stabilize it..._ Izayoi wasn't sure what Naruka was doing, but she was fast running out of strength to lend. Sweat beaded her face and chest, and she could feel herself shaking with the onset of exhaustion. _Hurry, aneue. _

The enormous sphere of light trembled, and wavered dangerously. Panic flooded through the link between the two sisters. _No! We cannot let go of it now! _

_Aneue! _

Izayoi had little left to give, but she gave it anyways. Naruka drank of the small offering greedily, drawing deeply on the very last reservoirs of strength either of them had. The resonance dropped one more half tone.

_Please! _

Despair set in as they realized it was not enough, could never be enough. Powerful though they might be, they were only mortal girls. This was too much. It was going to fail, and in failing it would kill them both, and anyone standing near them.

_Aneue..._

_Aneue..._

_See you on the other side._

_I'm still afraid._

They prepared to give in, at the very end of their splintering strength. They had nothing left to give.

_It was a good try. They'll have to find some other way. _Naruka.

_There is none. They will all die. _Izayoi.

_Come now, why the pessimism? _

The third voice was new and shocking. They nearly dropped the link in sheer surprise.

_Who...?_

Then, seemingly from out of nowhere, a flood of golden energy swamped their faltering threads of violet and green. _Use this._

Izayoi was the first to recognize the unexpected saviour. _Sakenmaru-sama?_

_No need for formalities, my dear. I saw that you were having troubles and decided to do what I could. I don't know if I'm helping any, but..._

_Yes!___both women cried emphatically.

Not wasting any time, Naruka grasped greedily at the bountiful new energy source, and with little difficulty finally stabilized the wildly careening shield net. It solidified into a glowing, delicate lacework of threads that formed strange kanji-like figures. The shield was complete. They'd done it.

_Thank you, Sakenmaru-sama! _Naruka cried gratefully.

_My pleasure, ladies. Glad to be of service. Now go to sleep before you burn yourselves out, you little idiots. _

They were only too glad to comply. The valley was safe now from outside detection. It was all right to rest for a little while. No one would need them for a few days at least-- there were plenty of willing hands below to get the work done. They relaxed in the knowledge that they were permitted to rest for as long as they needed.

xxxxx

"Wake up, you lazy dog." Toutousai kicked Inutaisho none-too-gently in the side. "The sword is finished."

"Mmmrrpphh." Yawning mightily, the lord of the west sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

The old swordsmith stood before him, proudly holding what looked like nothing so much as a relic from the depths of an abandoned castle's armoury which had not been cleaned before its long rest. It was thin to the point of puny, rusty, and nicked and dented in more places than Inutaisho could count. The hilt-wrap appeared to be composed of catgut and filthy bits of rag.

It was, all in all, quite hideous.

"Toutousai, please tell me that is not the sword you spent the last two weeks working on."

The swordsmith looked mightily miffed, and cracked Inutaisho smartly upside the head with the blunt edge of the blade. "Of course it is! Can't you see how lovely this is? Ungrateful mutt!"

Eyes watering from the unexpected pain, Inutaisho peered closely at the sword. Its appearance did not change. It was still a half-corroded chunk of scrap iron that would have difficulty slicing weeds, let alone bones and flesh. "I do not understand."

Toutousai threw his hands in the air in mute frustration, unintentionally nicking Inutaisho's chin with the sword's sudden upward movement. "Idiot! Brainless son of a maggot! Stand up!"

Inutaisho was very, very confused and in quite a lot of pain.

"Here! Hold this!" Toutousai thrust the sword into Inutaisho's hands.

Nothing.

"Toutousai, I still do not understand. This is the Sword of Earth, meant to slay a hundred enemies in a single stroke, correct?"

"Yes, of course it is. Can't you feel its power?"

There _was _something... an undercurrent of power, almost beyond sensing. "Well, I feel _something..."_

Toutousai suddenly smacked himself on the forehead. "Ach, I'm just as much a fool as you! Of course it won't work, not until you unlock it."

"How do I do that?" Inutaisho's patience was wearing thin. His head _hurt._

"It's simple. Just think of that woman you told me about, the one the sword is for."

_Think about Izayoi? _Unbidden, her face leapt to the forefront of his mind, smiling and inviting. He smiled in response, unconscious of it.

"Good. Now think of someone trying to hurt her."

He automatically scowled and tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword, which suddenly _pulsed._

_Ba-bump._

"What?" Inutaisho exclaimed, taken aback. "What's happening?"

"Idiot! The sword is waking up! Keep picturing the woman in danger!"

Inutaisho obeyed. He remembered the third time he'd seen her, when she'd come to his castle to warn him of imminent danger and the guards had taken matters into their own hands. He remembered their furious faces as they raced toward her, swords raised, and his terror that he would not make it in time...

_Ba-__**bump**_**.**

He imagined her on the battlefield, alone in a sea of faceless, bloodthirsty enemies. Helpless.

_**Ba-bump!**_

The sword flared to life in his hands and exploded outwards in a blaze of light. The shocked demon lord could only hang on as it reshaped itself into something sleek and massive, and infinitely dangerous-looking. When the light faded, there was a fang in his hand, with flowing fur for a handguard. It glowed luminescent white in the sunlight. Depending on how the light hit it, it looked to be made first of steel, then of jagged bone.

"There," Toutousai murmured in satisfaction. "It worked perfectly."

_This sword's purpose is to protect Izayoi. And its name..._

"Tessaiga," Inutaisho breathed, stroking a hand over the broad expanse of the surprisingly light blade.

"You're going to call it _that?_ What kind of pathetic name for a sword is 'Tessaiga?'" Toutousai sneered. "That's far too pretentious. What about..."

"Toutousai."

The smith's mouth snapped shut audibly at the tone of Inutaisho's voice. "Er, I mean... well, damn it. If that's what you want to call it, go ahead. But I still think it's a terrible name."

Inutaisho turned to the elderly smith and smiled deeply, giving no evidence of having heard any ot the smith's last words. "Thank you, Toutousai. This will serve me well. Will you please teach me how to use it?"

"Are you _listening _to me, pup? Eh? ...Hey, wait a minute. What're you doing? Inutaisho? _Oof!_ All right! All right, I'm coming! Put me down! _Hey!_"

xxxxx

Izayoi sat high on the valley walls, watching the work below her. This army, this beautiful shining army, would win the war and Ryuunomei would die. She was free to choose her course, now. Inutaisho's rescue had shown her that.

The fluttering leaves of the trees drew her eyes, and almost like a vision-trance, she saw with unfocused sight the possible paths the future could take for her.

One: they would win the war and go their separate ways.

This one she discounted immediately. They were bound to each other now, for better or for worse. There would be no simple parting when all was done.

Two: they would lose the war, Inutaisho would die, and she would return to a life of slavery.

That she refused to contemplate. Losing was not an option. Neither was Inutaisho dying. He would live because he had to, and she would never go back to a life of slavery because she could never live with herself if she did. She would die first.

Three: they would win the war but she would die.

There was no point in thinking about that, because if she died, then that was simply _it_. There would be no thorny relationship to work out if there was only one person left alive. 'Relationship' required two people.

Four: they would win the war and stay together, but only as companions.

This was plausible, but everything in her rebelled against it. She remembered the return flight, his hands around her thighs and their hair tangled together. Mere companionship would starve her soul. She needed more, much more, which led her to the last option.

Five: they would win the war and give in to the force that pulled them inexorably together, surrendering to a life together come storm or shine.

Now that it was laid out like that for her, she clearly saw that it was the only path she even wanted to look at, let alone follow.

_I love him. I want him. Spirits, I want him so much. If he turns away from me when he returns, my heart will break beyond all healing. Please, beloved goddess, don't let him refuse me._

She closed her eyes. The decision was made. She was committed to her course. She would either be with him, or suffer soul-death and live only as a shattered shell of her former self until her mortality caught up with her. Those were the only two paths she would allow.

She suddenly smiled and leaned back. It felt so wonderful to have finally decided one way or another. It felt so good to know how she really felt, beyond any shadow of a doubt. It felt good to be _certain._

xxxxx

A week later, he returned to the valley with an immensely powerful new weapon and a clear, decided mind. He had never felt so strong. The trees cowered beneath his feet and the sun seemed to bow in respect. He had left weak and indecisive, torn by his inner conflict over Izayoi.

He returned whole and happy, right with the world. The way he should have been all along.

Looking back, the entire thing seemed inexpressibly silly. He loved the woman. He wanted the woman. The woman loved and wanted him. Where was the conflict in that? Many days into the future, she would die and he would suffer. That was _in the future_. He had been allowing his fear of that distant day to rule his enjoyment of the present one. He felt ashamed of himself as a youkaiand as a man.

No more. Regardless of her answer upon his return, he felt confident in his own decision.

At the foot of the mountains Sesshoumaru came to meet him and wordlessly showed him the way to the new encampment. The valley came into their sight a short time after nightfall, and Sesshoumaru disappeared silently into the shadows. Inutaisho wondered why his son was so quiet tonight but resolved to look into it on the morrow. He had business elsewhere tonight.

He landed on the hillside near the new barracks and followed his nose to the one she was in. He hoped she wasn't sleeping.

xxxxx

She wasn't sleeping. She was waiting for him.

Inutaisho stepped into the rough-hewn room. It was lit by a couple of thick tallow candles, the reflected glow off her skin, and enough magic to make his hair stand on end.

He died a little all over again and became just a little bit more alive than before at the sight of her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, including every daiyoukai woman he'd ever met, even Mai. She was bewitching. Intoxicating.

The pale nightgown she wore had nothing on her luminescent skin. It clung to her enticingly, concealing most of her but suggesting everything. Her hair was unbound and cascaded resplendently over her back, all the way down to her knees. The candlelight danced with her eyes as she looked up at him from where she stood in the center of the room.

"Izayoi," he said. The world for him suddenly constricted to a tiny wooden shack, three candles and woman.

"So you left for a sword," she said quietly.

"Its name is Tessaiga," he explained. "It exists to protect you."

"Oh."

In another time, another place, he may have been irked by her monosyllabic dismissal of his gift, of three weeks of his friend's intense labour and his own sweat and blood spent in trying to master it.

Not tonight. Tonight, she could have called it a useless chunk of scrap metal and he wouldn't have cared a bit.

He smiled at her, and she smiled back.

And simple as that, the universe twisted around them, and things that had once been ordinary and mere parts of life became mystical and timeless. The realm of the gods descended to the earth, squeezing into the tiny space of the room and doing away with the need for words.

Inutaisho felt himself condensing, distilling down to the essence of himself. All the superfluous thoughts and feelings were stripped away. He was the edge of a sword, the bright gleam of death, the border to nowhere. He was a stone, still and ageless.

Around him flowed Izayoi, the light of the universe. She was the beginning and middle of everything he ended, the giver of life where he was the destroyer. She filled all the empty spaces there were to be filled and still kept expanding, warm and flowing and enveloping. She was the ocean, the mothering earth itself.

He stood firm, deeply rooted in himself and the reality of his death.

She swayed, surrendering to the dance of life and light and love.

"Izayoi..." he began. The silence broke into harsh pieces, but the magic was not lost. It was coming from her. Until she willed it gone, it would stay.

Unexpectedly, she cut him off. "I have a question that I need you to answer honestly." She sounded reserved, nervous, almost frightened.

The way _he_ had been before his revelations on the snowy mountainside. "Anything."

She stepped closer and he had to anchor his feet not to be blown over by the intensity of her existence. Her essence filled the room until he thought the walls would burst. "Am I. . .a very _selfish _person?"

He stared at her. The question was so ridiculous he had to fight off the urge to laugh. Images of her pushing herself nearly to death to come tell him of her vision on time, of her nursing him back to health from countless wounds, of her giving all her energy to the priestess she resented in order to save a lord she didn't know filled his mind. In all that time, never once had she asked him for anything for herself.

She pushed herself to the point of lethal exhaustion time and time again, simply to be of some assistance to others.

The idea of her being selfish was laughable.

"Izayoi, you are possibly the least selfish person I have ever known," he answered with perfect sincerity while gazing into her eyes.

Hope bloomed on her face, pale and aching. "Then. . .if I were to wish for something just for myself, just this once. . .it might be permissible?"

He stepped in and grasped her hands boldly. They disappeared into his own great warrior's hands. "Name it."

He wondered what it was she wanted. Nothing material was very important to her--what could possibly have her strung up in such a knot? What could she wish to possess that she did not have already and apparently needed so desperately?

"I cannot name it," she whispered. "I can only show you."

He wrinkled his brow in puzzlement and looked deeper at her, searching for understanding.

He was then startled when her glimmering eyes suddenly deepened and stretched back into an abyss. Their warm, inviting depths pulled him in. He felt her fingers slide up his face, hardly even touching him, to bury themselves in his hair. Gravity became suddenly too great to resist, and his head sank gracefully.

She stood on tiptoe and slowly, gently pressed her lips to his.

He thought he would die of joy. His desire was not unrequited, after all. Any lingering fear that she would refuse him vanished to the four winds, and he existed only as desire.

His strong arms twitched, then slid around her back and pulled her firmly into him.

She felt tiny and defenseless in his arms. However, she also seemed relaxed and completely safe. He could tell that she trusted him implicitly.

All there was left to do now was surrender to the moment. She leaned into the kiss, tilting her head to give him better access. Lips closed, they simply savoured the contact. It was more touch than kiss, and it ended quickly.

"Izayoi," he said quietly, powerfully.

"Dance with me," she whispered.

He shook his head slowly, once, twice. "Dance _for _me," he commanded gently. "I want to see you dance for me."

"As you wish," she answered, and smiled a smile full of promise and flame.

There was no music. She needed none. The flickering of the candle flames was her melody, the heartbeat of the earth her rhythm, and the wind outside the harmony. She melted into movement and became first a rowan tree, all swaying branches and spreading roots; then she was water, liquid and flickering about the room like quicksilver; a second later, she was a deer, fleet of foot and elusive. Next she became a great fire, rippling with heat and blindingly bright. Then she was the fire's shadow, silent and sinuous.

He stood fast and let her flow around him.

She was a quiet rainstorm now, slow and trailing damp life behind her. And then she became the sea, first calm and swelling, then fearsome and wrathful. She was the wind, sighing and slipping through the cracks in the universe. She was the curling smoke of a witch's fire.

At the very last, she was simply, astonishingly, a woman dancing for the man she loved. The gown loosened and slithered to the floor unnoticed, its role finished and its presence now rendered unnecessary. She wore nothing beneath it.

He felt suddenly unworthy, as though he was a mortal trespassing in the realm where gods and goddesses made their home. He watched as Izayoi's hair floated around her whirling form and felt afraid. This was a goddess. By what right did he dare to watch her dance? Men had died for much, much less.

She came to him on light feet and touched him once, twice, thrice. His armour was suddenly, inexplicably gone, as was the blade of bone. She returned and touched him again, fingers whispering over his still form, and piece by piece his clothing fell silently away until he was as bare as she.

They had passed beyond the plane where humans and demons existed. He reached out and touched her face with his fingers, trailing them down her forehead, the delicate arch of her nose, the softness of her lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she pressed her own cool fingers to the curving planes of his chest, then trailed them across as she moved around him. He felt her drop a kiss between his shoulder blades. Her hands curled up around him, and she pressed herself against his back.

He reached up and loosed the lacquered pins from his hair. It cascaded down over her body in a silver rush. She shivered against him as it brushed against each exposed inch of skin.

"I'm torn," she murmured.

He remained silent, accepting.

"I am dying with passion, but I am afraid to let it loose. I know I am safe with you, yet still I cannot..."

He listened past the fearful words to the longing beneath and _acted. _The time for explanation had passed.

He turned in her grasp and**,** wrapping his hands around her slim waist, lifted her and pressed her against the wall, so that her head was slightly higher than his. She gasped in surprise as he slammed his chest between her legs, pinning her to the rough wooden boards. As she slid slightly downwards into position, the upolished wood was rough against her back... but the pain was a strange pain, almost pleasant.

He pinned her down and ruthlessly attacked her breasts, devouring with his hands the pale bounty she offered him. With his mouth he tasted her throat, which she helplessly bared in submission. Her pulse point flickered beneath his tongue and he grazed it with his fangs, eliciting a hiccupped moan from her. Her hands tangled in his hair and dug pleadingly at his scalp, but he would not be rushed.

She squirmed between him and the unforgiving wall as he lowered his mouth, many degrees warmer than her own flesh, to her darkened nipples. Her legs wound around his waist and tightened. "Please, please," she whispered.

_No._

His hands removed hers from his hair, and he splayed her open like a crucifix, unable to move a single inch as he plundered her. _I am going to take you, _his lips said as they roamed across her flushed skin. _I am not going to be gentle about it, either. I am going to show you what real passion is, how it should have been for you the first time and every time. I am going to ravish you whether you admit you want me to or not._

_Yes, please, _her quaking body answered when her mind could not find the words. _Teach me all about what I've missed all these years. Heal me. _

He looked up into her eyes and penetrated her soul with his gaze. _Are you ready, my love?_

_Yes. Oh, yes._

He pulled slightly back and let her slide down the wall until her face was at his chest and their hips were pressed against each other. He felt his manhood pressed flat against her belly. Instead of closing off, though he could feel in the sudden tension of her muscles that she wanted to, she opened and relaxed into him, laving his collarbone with warm kisses that were more tongue than lips.

He was the hunter god, and she was the corn goddess. Their union was legend in all cultures, no matter the names or forms they took in each. She welcomed him into her lush forests, and he stalked the edge of death within her.

Her small hand insinuated itself between them and guided him into her heated center. She stretched deliciously around him, her thighs dampening with her moisture. He stilled, memorizing the moment.

She whimpered, and the moment shattered.

Their eyes snapped together fiercely and they fell off the precipice and into the abyss, tangled together.

He lunged into her, and she invited him deeper with urging legs and blunt fingernails deep in the flesh of his back. The heartbeat of the world sped up, and so did he, matching its rhythm, competing with it.

She sobbed and moaned into his shoulder, fingers scrabbling desperately at his sweat-sheened back.

Gasping with almost painful need, he tore them away from the wall and tumbled onto the futon. The air expelled from her lungs with a harsh grunt as his weight slammed her into the firm mattress. Their legs were half off the edge.

She drew her foot up the back of his thigh, caressing the muscle there. He shuddered and grasped the back of her head by her hair, pulling her face into the crook of his neck. She raked her tongue up the tendon at the side of his throat.

With every thrust, he tried to show her every facet of what he'd learned about himself, and about her. He tried to show her how much he loved every part of her, even the dark and unlovely parts like her own self-loathing and her terribly twisted personal judgement. She was his witch-goddess and he loved her more than he could express, even in this powerful language of touch and taste and feeling.

He smelled salt and knew she wept, from pleasure or from the release of old pain he did not know. She let her head fall back rapturously, exposing her throat. Unable to help himself, he suckled at the pale flesh and the spiderweb of veins beneath it.

Her fingernails were spearing into his back again, begging. She raised her head and buried her face in his shoulder. She was shaking with desperation.

_This _was the passion he had never found with Mai, the raging flame of lust and love to which she had never inspired him. How he had lived without it, he did not know.

She kissed his ear, swirling her tongue across the hyper-sensitive ridges, causing him to buck helplessly. Her hot mouth enveloped his earlobe and suckled gently, then moved downwards to his pulse point. Then she bit him, hard enough to break skin and make him feel it throughout his body. He howled in astonishment and primal pleasure, careless of the neighbouring lodges' occupants.

Growing bolder, she insistently struggled until he allowed himself to be rolled over onto his back. They fell off the futonand onto the floor without noticing. Triumphantly she sat atop him, a contrast of dark, shadowed hair and shining, pale flesh. Then she began to move.

He died. The world did not exist, life did not exist, people did not exist. The goddess riding him with arching pleasure was the only being left in the entire universe for him.

She threw her head back and dragged trembling hands across sweat-drenched breasts, then licked the salt from her fingers with her eyes closed. She moaned, and he echoed her, lost in astonishment at the transformation in her from the damaged mortal creature he knew to _this. _She snarled, much like a wildcat, and fell forward, her hair cloaking them both as her hardened nipples pressed into his own. Her rhythm sped up, and he could feel her tightening desperately around him.

He clenched his fists and forced himself not to touch her. This was the woman he loved taking her own pleasure at last, and he had no intention of ruining it for her. This moment was hers. It had to be hers, or every step she had taken forwards until now would be undone... but by the gods, but it was difficult.

She writhed atop him, twisting her hips and slamming them onto him, breath was coming in short, gasping bursts. Her head lowered slowly to rest on his chest, as though she hadn't the strength to hold it up any longer, and she made a sound like a small laugh.

He gave up trying not to touch her, sensing that the period of danger was over. His claws raked viciously up her back, stopping just short of drawing blood. With his fingers and thumbs, he spanned her fragile waist and pulled her deeper onto him. The wildcat died, and she began once more to sway sensually. She was finished with her conquest and wanted to be conquered again.

Leaning over to press her lips to his ear, she snarled wordlessly. Her message was clear: _Take me. I am yours. _

He was more than happy to comply, and rolled without breaking contact to rest atop her again. The light hovering above their personal heaven was brightening, and grew steadily closer with each movement they made.

They were so close. Any moment now, it would end. He didn't want it to, not yet, but she was ready and so he was helpless to stop. His body was moving on its own now, thundering against her, hammering its way inside until there was little left of him that wasn't part of her.

Izayoi tensed around him, fingernails sinking into his back and teeth tight in his shoulder, every muscle of her body quivering with the nearness of her climax.

Once, twice, three more times he took her, and it was there.

She shrieked in abandoned ecstasy, letting go of his shoulder to arch her spine hard against the floor and writhe. Her inner walls spasmed around him, and he lost every shred of control he had left.

_"Izayoi!_" he howled, and exploded into liquid flame within her. She rose up to kiss him ferociously and rode out every wave of pleasure that rocked her, which in turn wrung him inside out.

He was empty, but he felt utterly filled with something unnameable and warm and endless.

Their sweat dripped and mingled on the unpolished strakes of the floor, soaking into the grain. He rolled them over onto their sides, then kissed her with slow tenderness, thanking her with all his heart for the journey on which she had just taken him.

"I love you," he growled into her gasps.

"I love you... too," she whispered, completely played out. She had nothing left, and neither did he.

With his last strength, he tumbled them back across the floor and onto the softer futon_. _She reached down and pulled the thin sheet over them and curled into his chest trustingly. "Hold me."

He obliged, and pulled her down into restful sleep with him. The dawn was the furthest thing in the universe away from him. "Oh, my goddess," he whispered, and kissed her hair.

She smiled into the hollow of his throat and sighed. The thought of waking this way in the morning was the second most beautiful thing she'd ever known.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Ah, my second lemon ever. How nostalgic. Coming back to edit these chapters has been... quite an interesting time. :)

**Note:** There is a one-shot posted separately from this story which elaborates on the story of Inutaisho and Mai, and how the feud with the dragon clan began. Its name, like the chapter it elaborates on, is _Historical Significance._ If you feel so inclined, you're welcome to go have a look at it.

Thank you for reading!


	25. One Chinese Butterfly

**A/N: **Enjoy!

**xoxoxoxoxox**

_**Chapter XXV: One Chinese Butterfly**_

**xoxoxoxoxox**

Sesshoumaru ran.

It wasn't running _away_, precisely. In his mind, he was running _toward_ something but could not quite bring himself to reach it. For now, he just wanted to be in motion, letting the pull and slide of muscles drown out the words that clawed their way around his mind.

He knew what had happened the night before. With his superior hearing, it had been impossible to miss. With every step, he hammered the earth with his need to punish _someone_ for it. It was not right. It was not right that his noble father should have fallen so, and it was certainly not right that he showed no shame for it.

Beyond even that, he could not fathom his father's choice. The woman was ordinary and boring, if not downright distasteful. Not to mention the fact that she was human and thus obviously inferior. What did the mighty Inutaisho see in her?

Sesshoumaru ran and wished his pride would allow him to confront his father and beg him for answers. How could Inutaisho abandon his only son for that _woman_? The memory of being left behind to babysit his father's human companions while Inutaisho went to rescue _her _still stung. More recently, he burned with anger at being roundly ignored upon his father's return the night before. It seemed he now only had eyes for the woman.

What was his motivation for allowing the relationship to go further, rather than crushing it in its early stages? Had he forgotten about Sesshoumaru's mother? Did he feel any guilt for betraying her memory _at all_?

All these things and more Sesshoumaru wanted to ask, but he knew it would be a long time before he would bring himself to confront his father. Despite his father's lapse in judgement, Sesshoumaru still respected him and did not want to incur his wrath. Perhaps in time Inutaisho's reasoning would become clear to him.

At the moment, however, he was merely a confused, hurt adolescent and needed to run. He was sure his father had good reasons, but...

_Why? Why?_

The word echoed through the chambers of his mind but did not diminish as ordinary echoes do; rather, it grew stronger and more pressing the longer it reverberated. He clutched his head in his hands and ran faster, but the smell of wildflowers followed him almost mockingly. Izayoi would not leave him be.

_Away. I must get away from that sickeningly sweet scent_.

xxxxx

In a castle far away, the serpent lord screamed in frustration when the latest report came back exactly the same as all the others before it.

_No sign of them. No trail. No indication of their location. It's as if they've vanished off the face of the land. Where are you hiding, my enemy? _

Ryuukossei wisely remained out of his brother's way.

xxxxx

Humiliation wasn't a colour, Izayoi decided as she stood in the chilly morning air enduring the morning-after ribaldry. It was a sound. Or rather, she corrected herself, a whole lot of sounds put together.

"You might have let us sleep at least a _little_," Sakenmaru said reproachfully with a totally straight face.

Sound number one: raucous teasing from her friends, whom she hadn't expected this from.

Sound number two: the cacophony of war-whoops and cat-calls from the large group of gathered soldiers. Even worse was the approving expressions on their craggy, battle-worn faces. Izayoi wished she could become a tree, blind and deaf and blessedly emotionless.

Sound number three: the tittering and strangled sniggering of the soldier's wives as they tried desperately not to laugh out loud, for fear of offending her.

Sound number four, the most infuriating one of all: the low growl of... warning? satisfaction? coming from the demon lord standing yawning behind her.

_Oh, shut up. Is standing there looking tired the only thing you can do? Doesn't this bother you?_

Her obliging mind kindly took her back to the night before and showed her what the giggling group must have experienced, and she felt her face flame with humiliation.

"Someone save me," she whispered weakly, face boiling with the most ferocious blush she had ever had the misfortune of suffering through.

"What is the matter?" Inutaisho yawned lazily and curled an arm around her midriff protectively.

She revised her opinion of the 'growl.' No self-respecting growl would ever sound that much like a purr. Self-satisfied rumbling, then. The audial equivalent of a smirk.

_Ooooh. I'm going to strangle you_.

"The _matter_," she gritted, "is that thousands of people heard us last night and they are now mercilessly making me suffer for it. Had you not noticed the bloody congregation?"

He glanced up at the knots of people holding their middles as they laughed hysterically and then looked away, unconcerned. "Were you expecting something different?"

"Yes!" she cried. "I was sort of hoping they would have the courtesy not to say anything, and failing that, I was really hoping you would notice and shut them up!"

"Does it bother you that much?" he asked softly into her hair, surprised. "I am not ashamed of what we did last night, and I hope you are not."

She stopped and thought about that for a moment. "I'm not ashamed," she said at last, "I'm just not accustomed to this many people having such direct knowledge of my carnal... er, exploits?"

Inutaisho was silent for an incredulous moment, then burst out laughing. "_Exploits?" _he howled. "Oh, that _is_ a good one."

"Oh, will you _please_ shut up already?" she snapped, upset all over again.

Something was wrong. Her friends were usually very considerate, going no further than gentle teasing. This was far beyond their usual limits, and she felt attacked and wounded. The fact that they had chosen this day of all days to make her miserable gave birth to a spew of anger. She glared up at her oblivious mate and _willed _him to understand.

He paused at the tone in her voice and loosened his arms. "You are truly angry."

Yes, she damned well was! For good reason!

"No," Izayoi lied tiredly. "I'm not really angry. I'm just... fragile, right now. Please make them stop?"

She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was grinning now. That made her even angrier.

"As you wish, Izayoi-hime."

"Don't call me that."

He let go of her and stepped forward, shielding her with his massive height. "Do not be afraid. I may have to resort to... spectacular means to subdue them."

_Spectacular... means?_

_"Silence!_" he bellowed, powerful voice reverberating across the valley walls.

The startled crowd gasped and stumbled.

"Now that I have your attention," he continued mildly, "I will ask you to desist in your ribaldry. You are making my mate uncomfortable, and I will not tolerate that."

For a few blessed moments, there was total silence. Izayoi's head swam with relief.

Then... "'Uncomfortable?'" Sakenmaru asked disbelievingly.

"_Izayoi-hime?_" Katsuro continued.

The two men looked at each other, then burst out laughing all over again. Taking that as permission, the army followed suit. Within seconds a good thousand people were once again howling with laughter at her discomfiture.

Izayoi buried her nails in her palms and tried not to cry. _Insensitive, boilfaced, pestilent scum of the earth_! she thought angrily. _This isn't like them! What's going on? I'm so confused!_

"Time for spectacular means," Inutaisho said over his shoulder, under his breath so only she could hear.

She quirked an eyebrow in confusion, attempting to hide her burgeoning tears behind her sleeve.

_What does... Oh!_

Inutaisho was suddenly surrounded by a storm of silver mist, which proceeded to explode. Curling tendrils of the mist shot in all directions, but they had no solidity and so no one was hurt.

When the fog cleared, Inutaisho was gone. So was the sun. Slowly, fearfully, the army looked up into a shiny new silver-furred 'sky'. In reality, it was a demon dog so large Izayoi had trouble wrapping her mind around it.

The army and she-- indeed, the entire encampment-- were dwarfed by the shadow of his belly. His paws braced against the side of the valley, and trees splintered like twigs wherever those massive limbs landed. His head was easily the size of the two largest cabins put together. There was enough room to have a small battle within his ribcage.

_Battle...ribcage..._

She froze.

The world around her suddenly became misty and tinged with violet, a colour she knew very well. _A vision! _

Her mind filled with pictures. First came terrifying images of dripping bilious green and fierce yellow eyes narrowed in hate. Two figures, one in white and one in red, danced around each other on a carpet of skulls. They shared the same eyes. It dawned on her that she knew the figure in white...

_My goddess! Sesshoumaru! What is this?_

The other, the brash young challenger, snarled and cried something, and she noted with shock the triangular canine ears perched atop his head. _Hanyou...!_

As quickly as they had come, the visions faded, and she was left shaking beneath the belly of the beast.

The suddenly tiny-looking soldiers stared up in awed disbelief, silent again.

Then, as if to drive his point home, Inutaisho _snarled_. It created a rank, organic wind that gusted through the valley, plastering every man, woman, and child with his scent. "You will cease your blathering," he growled, but his voice was so low it almost sounded like a particularly articulate earthquake, rather than a voice.

"Show-off," Izayoi heard Sakenmaru grumble.

"My god," Katsuro whispered.

Izayoi looked over at them and saw Naruka race for Katsuro's side, grasping his arm with fingers so pale they were nearly blue. He pulled her into his arms, shielding her, and she burrowed into his chest in terror.

"Shh, shh," he murmured, stroking her hair soothingly.

Izayoi could see that she was shivering with fear. She winced and felt pity. _Enough!_ she thought.

"Inutaisho!" she yelled, as loudly as she could.

"I am not deaf, woman," he rumbled irritably.

Subduing her voice a little bit, she continued. "You're scaring them. Can you stop now? Thank you, I think they listened this time."

"You're impossible to please." Inutaisho sounded nonplussed, but in a moment he was his normal size and grinning.

She sighed in relief and grasped his sleeve in damp fingers. The relief was short-lived, however.

"Izayoi-hime!"

_Oh, no. Please, gods, no._

"Congratulations! I was beginning to wonder if you two would ever..."

"Katsuro-san," she said in her best don't-even-go-there voice. "Don't."

His mouth shut with an audible snap.

Sakenmaru sauntered up and clapped Inutaisho condescendingly on the back. "So you finally got over yourself, did you, old dog? Good for you, princess. I personally think you deserve better, but as long as he treats you well I won't have to kill him."

All three of the others stared at him, biting their lips frantically. Inutaisho glared at him coldly.

Sakenmaru scoffed. "Oh, quit making faces. Everyone here has known for ages that you two should end up together... the only question was if you could overcome your damned daiyoukai pride and take the step. Glad to see I didn't underestimate you."

"Sakenmaru, if you do not..."

"Close your mouth, Inutaisho, before it gets you in trouble. I'd suggest getting your new mate some breakfast before she faints, and then..."

"Sakenmaru-sama!" Izayoi yelped, sensing what he had been about to say.

The lion demon grinned wickedly. "Whatever you want, I'm just saying..."

"Don't. Don't say _anything."_

"Well, if you want I will be quiet. However, I am _awfully_ curious as to what you're going to name the child..."

Izayoi felt her limbs freeze and become brittle. If anyone laid so much as a fingertip on her, she was sure she would splinter and break. "Child? What child? We haven't even talked about that yet!"

"A little late for talking, isn't it?" Sakenmaru asked silkily, coming close enough to lay a warm hand on her belly. "Seeing as how you're already pregnant."

The world spun before her eyes. "Impossible...how could you know that?"

The lion demon smiled mysteriously. "I know many things, my dear. Many, many things."

She looked at him askance. Something was very off. Were his eyes turning emerald and glittering like a serpent's? Were those braids in his hair? And were they turning purple? She had to be imagining these things...but they did not go away.

Before her eyes, her beloved friend Sakenmaru blurred and morphed into Ryuunomei. Then he grinned and touched her cheek.

Her heart burst in her chest and a scream swelled her throat. _Help me! What __**is**__ this?_

Katsuro and Naruka smiled and touched each other in a decidedly intimate way, all the while never taking their eyes off of her.

Tears spilled down Izayoi's face and she retreated, shaking. "I don't understand..." she moaned aloud. "Stop it! Stop all of this! What are you doing? Why are you here, Ryuunomei-sama? Why is everyone being so cruel?"

(_Izayoi)_

"Someone help! I'm afraid, I'm so afraid, someone help me please..."

_(Izayoi!)_

"Go away! Everyone leave me alone!" She grasped her head in her hands and turned to run. However, where before there had been solid, muddy ground there was now a dizzying precipice leading to nothing but an endless stretch of cloudy nothingness. She wavered on the edge, beyond terror, and then fell wailing into the pale golden mist below.

_Inutaisho! Save me!_

_(__**Izayoi!**__)_

The sharp-edged bottom rushed up to meet her. She closed her eyes...

xxxxx

...and opened them to streaming sunlight and concerned golden eyes. "Izayoi?"

She stared uncomprehendingly into those eyes and searched for the pieces of her mind. Nothing made sense. Where had the cliff gone? Where were the laughing soldiers? Why was she warm now? The wind had been so cold. Where had the wind gone?

"Are you all right, beloved?" said a beautiful voice in her ear, fluttering through her hair. "You were weeping in your sleep just now." Strong arms pulled her tightly against a hard, warm chest.

She shuddered and pressed her tearstained face to bare, heated skin. "Is this a dream?" she whispered, terrified of the answer but unable to stop herself from asking.

Long fingers caressed her back soothingly. "No, you are not dreaming. See?"

There were soft lips at her throat, and then fangs. It hurt, just a little bit, but it was the most welcome pain she had ever felt. There was no pain in dreaming.

Izayoi gasped in inexpressible relief and clenched her arms around Inutaisho. "Goddess be praised." A fresh wave of tears trickled down her cheek and dripped into their mingled hair.

Inutaisho gently kissed them away, his rough tongue lapping at her damp skin. "Was it a dream?" he murmured.

She nodded inarticulately and drew circles around his dark nipple with a finger.

"A nightmare?"

Izayoi nodded again, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

The rhythm of his words was soothing. She closed her eyes, listened to him breathe, and felt her heartbeat slow to synchronize with his.

"I dreamed--" she started haltingly, then choked. It took several minutes of back-rubbing and massaging to clear her throat enough to allow her to speak again. "I dreamed that they were teasing me, and you didn't care. Then Sakenmaru was Ryuunomei, and there was a cliff and I fell..."

Inutaisho chuckled and placed a finger over her lips. "Slow down, love. You are not making any sense."

Izayoi took a deep, strangled breath and let it flow out into the space between them. Then, she tried again. "My dream was about what happens after we get up and go outside. Katsuro and Naruka and Sakenmaru and the entire army were standing there laughing at us. They were saying such cruel things! And then you transformed into this enormous dog and yelled at them, and I had a vision of Sesshoumaru and a half-demon boy who looks like you fighting in what looked like your own ribcage. You transformed back, but they kept teasing me. They said I was pregnant! And then...and _then..._" The words died in her throat at the memory of coldly amused green eyes.

"And then," she forced herself to continue, "Sakenmaru-sama turned into Ryuunomei-sama and laughed at me. Katsuro and Naruka were acting so strangely... I turned to run away, but there was a cliff, and I fell. Then I woke up."

"Oh, love," Inutaisho whispered. "Are you truly that afraid of their reactions?"

Izayoi thought about it.

She knew now how she would feel if they reacted with mere rudeness, and it was more terrible than she could ever have imagined. How would she feel if they reacted outright _badly? _What if they actually found the thought of humans and demons having such relations unnatural or disgusting, despite all their prior words and actions?

It was unlikely in the extreme, but that did not prevent her from envisioning it. She almost vomited. Her reaction to such an event would be visceral and simple.

She would die of a broken heart.

"Yes," she answered truthfully. "I'm more terrified than I can say."

She had hardly even finished the sentence when Inutaisho tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her fiercely. His lips said what words could not.

_Do I have the courage to try this again? Logically I know they won't react like they did in my dream, but I can't help my fear. _

"I promise you it will be all right," Inutaisho said fiercely, seizing her eyes with his own. "I would never let them hurt you like that. I swear it!" Every line of his face screamed sincerity and love.

_Why can't I stop crying? _she wondered absently as yet more warm tears spilled. These were tears of joy and fulfillment, however, and so she did not mind them overmuch.

"All right?"

She nodded and smiled helplessly. He smiled back and trailed his claws along her cheek.

"Good. It is late morning and I am rather hungry. Are you up to going outside as long as I am there to shield you?"

Izayoi wanted nothing more than to stay in bed, cradled in his arms, and totally content for the next forever. However, her stomach was also grumbling and she knew she could not deny it sustenance forever.

"All right," she said in the strongest voice she could muster. Unfortunately, it still came out small and strangled.

Inutaisho braced his arms around her and did _something_ that sent them flying. After a dizzying moment they were upright and naked as the day they were born. It felt totally natural to be bare and vulnerable in his presence.

Did that mean she trusted him? _Yes_, she realized with wonder. _I do trust him! I really do! _ She had known that before, of course, but it really hit home in that moment. The knowledge moved from being intellectual to being intrinsic. Her trust for him was part of her now.

They helped each other dress. It was such a sensual thing to both of them that they came very close to tearing the newly donned clothing right off again. However, their stomachs would not be ignored.

It was with great trepidation that they stepped out at last into the mild morning air. Despite Izayoi's fear, there was no army waiting to unleash its cruel mirth upon her. Katsuro, Naruka, and Sakenmaru were there, as she'd expected, but they did not have the harsh light in their eyes that she remembered from her dream.

Instead, they broke into wide smiles as she and Inutaisho emerged.

"Aneue!" Naruka cried, hurtling across the short distance between them to envelop Izayoi in a tight embrace. "I'm so glad!" Her dark eyes sparkled with joy and tears.

Katsuro only smiled and gripped Inutaisho's shoulder in his warrior's hand. They had an understanding of each other that went beyond words, and so they said nothing. Where had her vision of him cruelly planning mass humiliation for her come from?

Sakenmaru laughed jovially and clapped Inutaisho and Izayoi heartily on their backs hard enough to make the latter stagger. How had she ever thought he would be unkind to her?

Izayoi wept openly with an enormous smile on her face.

_I had nothing to fear after all, _she thought. _I was so stupid to think they would ever do something like that._

Lost in a sea of loving embraces, Izayoi smiled and released the very last of her fear.

All was right with the world.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	26. Historical Significance

**A/N: **This chapter is the one I based _Historical Significance_ on, so if you read that, much of this will look familiar.

Thanks so much to my wonderful beta, **ALF,** who took the time to do this even though her personal life was not very calm at the time this chapter was written. It is more appreciated than she knows.

Enjoy the chapter!

**xoxoxoxoxox**

_**Chapter XXVI: Historical Significance**_

**xoxoxoxoxoxox**

When Sakenmaru pulled him aside several weeks later, Inutaisho was not the least bit surprised. He had known the encounter was coming and had been dreading it.

The lion demon seized his arm in fingers that were still strong despite their age and dragged him into the nearest empty barracks. Then he spun Inutaisho around, grasped his shoulders, and stared him straight in the eye. He was obviously furious, if his narrowed eyes and high colour were any indication.

Inutaisho sighed and resigned himself to the inevitable tongue-lashing he sensed coming.

Sakenmaru did not disappoint him. "_Are you mad?_" he snarled, punctuating each word with a vigorous shake. "What were you _thinking_?"

"It was her idea," Inutaisho replied lamely.

Sakenmaru was having none of it. "That doesn't mean it was a _good _idea! I thought you were smart enough to realize that! I'm sorry to say I've underestimated you." His anger was chilling, descending rapidly from raging heat to ice.

Inutaisho felt compelled to defend himself but could not find the words. "It was a good idea at the time?" he ventured.

That earned him a cheek full of sharp knuckles. He staggered, hand instinctively going to his wounded face.

"This is not something you should be deciding on _spur of the moment!_" Sakenmaru howled. "You should know better than that! You _know_ what the near future is going to look like! You _know_ what dangers we face when Ryuunomei finds us! And you would be foolish and cruel enough to subject your pregnant wife and unborn child to that? You are an _idiot _and I ought to beat you from here to Sakhalin Island."

Inutaisho still had no defense. He and Izayoi had talked it over, wrapped deep in the embrace of the night and each other. She had been very clear: she wanted to bear his child, and she wanted to bear it immediately. She had had reasons, and they had made sense at the time. He had not seen any reason to deny her what she so obviously wanted, since he had wanted it just as much.

Now, in the light of day, he saw it for the supremely unwise move it had been. They were at _war_. There was going to be bloodshed and mayhem everywhere, and she would not be able to defend herself if she was six months pregnant.

Inutaisho listed the reasons again to search for clarity.

One... she said there was no guarantee of being alive or capable of bearing children at the end of the war.

Two... there was no certainty of the war ending this year, either. For all they knew, it could drag on for several years.

Three... she was at prime childbearing age, and didn't want to risk passing her time and losing the opportunity forever.

Four... her intuition told her that it was time.

He looked at the reasons, and realized that they were extremely flimsy. Yes, it was possible that they would not be able to bear children at the end of the war. However, they had not planned on how to _raise _a child _during _said war.

They would be bringing an innocent life into an insane world full of gore and death and mayhem. All of their time would be dedicated to bringing down Ryuunomei and his army. There would be battles to fight, training to accomplish, and logistics to keep organized. When would there be time in that for a child?

"You had better not be planning on keeping her here," Sakenmaru growled. "You need to get her away from this encampment, to somewhere she won't be found when Ryuunomei finds the rest of us. You need to keep her safe, Inutaisho. This is your mistake, and you had better make sure tragedy doesn't come of it."

Inutaisho's heart twisted in his chest. The lion was right, and he knew it. He had been foolish and flighty as a starry-eyed youngster, and there would be consequences.

"I have a plan," he said tiredly, closing his eyes.

"Good," Sakenmaru said. "Oh, and by the way? Congratulations." He clapped Inutaisho powerfully on the back, making him stagger again. "Idiot or no, I won't begrudge you this little bit of happiness. It had just better work out well in the end, or I'm going to have to kill you myself."

Inutaisho's eyes snapped open, and topaz met amber with an almost audible _snap_. "If she or the child suffers from this, you will not have to."

"Good," Sakenmaru said again. "Good. So what's this plan of yours?"

The dog demon ran his fingers through his loose hair. "I found a valley, not far from here if I fly-- but far enough not to be found immediately if and when Ryuunomei finds us. It is at a very high altitude and enclosed on three sides, so unless he approaches from the south, he will not even see it. There is a flat space there that I have cleared. I will build her a castle and take her there. Until the child is born and old enough to be left with a nurse, she will live there, whether she wishes to or not."

Sakenmaru sighed. "I hate to say it, but that's a good plan. She'll hate it, I know she will, but it's the best thing right now. I suppose she's just as much to blame for this as you are, so this confinement can be her punishment."

"I feel very stupid," Inutaisho confessed. "I swear to you, when we were discussing it, it all made perfect sense."

Sakenmaru grinned. "I believe you, pup. You're entitled to make mistakes every once in a while. The last one turned out well, didn't it? I suppose I'll just have to have faith in you."

Last mistake...? Ah, _that_ mistake. The Great Mistake, the mistake that had torn Japan into messy halves and kept it poised on the razor edge of a folded-steel blade. A mistake to end wars, and start them. It too had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Inutaisho smiled at the memory of how his first marriage had begun.

OooooooO

_We write with the gravest news and heavy hearts._

_ Princess Mai's elder sister Mirei has recently passed away due to a lingering illness which finally overcame her. Certain circumstances surrounding her death require that her younger sister assume her duties in her stead. Unfortunately, this means that her engagement to your son Inutaisho must be broken. This is truly regrettable for both of us, however it must be done._

_ With deepest apologies,_

_ Iruka Pobei, _

_ Aide to Lord Iruka. _

_Mirei had been promised in a crucial alliance with the Lord of the East, and her death meant that Mai had to go in her stead to marry the Eastlord. The great family of the West was powerful, but as close kin of theirs not so much of a threat as the East was, and maintaining peace with them took precendence beyond a doubt. _

_His lovely wife-to-be was now promised to another. He fought the urge to shred the missive into ragged shreds, find her, and steal her away to live in the mountains as a hermit with him. __**We'd have a garden, and whatever I could catch with my claws... and weave blankets of our shed fur for the winter... Stop. There is no point to this train of thought.**_

_The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge of what would happen to her if he did so. If she refused to marry the Eastlord and absconded with him, she would be hunted down, shamed, and most likely either imprisoned or executed. Her rank lay across her slim shoulders like massive iron chains, threatening to break her if she did not move where they directed her._

_Agonized, he chewed on his knuckles and stared sightlessly at the off-white scroll and its harsh black slashes of ink. _

_Over the past few weeks they'd spent a lot of time together, learning the contours of each other and planning a future together. A typical day involved them eating breakfast together, then wandering up to the shores of their favourite hidden mountain lake and talking the day away until the gathering darkness forced them to return. They would bring picnic lunches and dinners and eat whenever they felt hungry, content in each other's company._

_The blazing shine of love-at-first-sight had faded, but been replaced with something much more satisfying. They knew now that they enjoyed each other's presence, and knew also that they would be able to live a life of several millennia together peacefully. It was a wonderful thing to understand. _

_Then, just when they had finally come to terms with everything their obligations had thrown at them, __**this**__ had happened_.

_"Father," Inutaisho greeted flatly. Flat, flat, flat as missive written on a sheet of rice-paper._

_"You will accept this," Inumaru said behind him in a deep, threatening voice. "You will do nothing. Do you understand me?"_

_"Perfectly."_

_"Then you will let this go?"_

_Inutaisho turned around and met his father's narrow eyes. He said nothing._

_Inumaru growled. "If you do anything, __**anything at all, **__I will disown you."_

_Silence._

_The warlord snarled and stalked out. Inutaisho listened to him go and didn't care. Even if he had wanted to do something, what could he possibly do that would not endanger Mai?_

_And yet, he could not bear the thought of losing her to the cold dragons of the East. She would wither there, like a rose in shadow, denied the sun. The East was not a place for one such as her. Away from his side was no place for her, period._

_**She belongs with me. **_

_All of a sudden, the four thin walls of his room were far too small to hold him. He catapulted from his chair into a dead run, slamming the shoji aside and fleeing the compound of his ancestral home without a backwards glance._

_At first he did not know where he was going. His feet did, however, and he soon found himself on the shores of their lake, staring glassily at the unruffled surface of the water.__** I cannot let this pass unanswered. And yet, what can I do?**_

_His father had already seemed to accept the slight of the broken engagement, perhaps out of fear of an attack against him from the East. In any case, Inutaisho knew he would receive no aid from that quarter. Not that he ever had before._

_He could not stomach the thought of thousands of years of life spent with anyone else, and could bear even less the thought of her spending those thousands of years in the arms of another. He was viciously jealous and did not care what others might think of his possessiveness. __**She is mine! But... ah, but. There is always a 'but.'**_

_Inutaisho sat down on the grassy bank and sank his head into his hands._

OoooooO

_He was so lost in thought and deliberation, he did not even hear the person's approach until he or she was nearly upon him._

_"Inutaisho," he rasped exhaustedly._

_He rocketed to his feet and stared at the swaying figure in consternation. It was a ragged messenger, obviously exhausted and in much pain. What was he doing up there? Inutaisho was fairly certain nobody but him knew of the location of the little lake. That, combined with the lack of an honorific, alerted him that something was up._

_"Who are you?" he barked. "What do you want?"_

_The man stared at him blankly. "Inutaisho...?"_

_"And why do you call me so familiarly?" he snarled, hand falling on the hilt of his short dagger. He sensed no danger from the man, but felt better when he had a weapon in his hand regardless._

_"Don't you... recognize me?" The man sounded desolate and confused._

_Inutaisho was just as confused. "Recognize you? A messenger boy from a foreign castle? Why would I?"_

_Suddenly, light dawned on his face and the man launched into a shocking array of curses. "Be__**damned!**__ I forgot to take the glamour off!" He pulled the hat off and threw it to the ground, then formed a complex series of finger-symbols almost faster than Inutaisho could follow. _

_**Magic? What? **__He drew the dagger and held it in front of him, fully on his guard._

_The man's outline began to blur, and his scent changed dramatically... to one Inutaisho knew very, very well._

_**"Mai?" **__he asked incredulously. She had some training in the ninja arts by the order of her father. He had thought they might be useful in unforeseen circumstances-- Inutaisho highly doubted, however, that this was what he had had in mind._

_And indeed, once the transformation was complete, it was his silver-haired maiden that stood before him decked in men's clothing and dirty-faced. "There," she said breathlessly. "I am sorry about that. Naturally, I could not travel all this way with my own face. I would not have made it past my own gate!"_

_He was astounded, and completely thrown off balance. Mere hours ago he had been reading the missive that said she was never to see him again and would be given to another. Now, here she was, tired but elated, smiling at him ._

_**What's going on?**_

_Heaving an enormous sigh of relief, Mai sank to the ground in a graceful slump. "I made it. I can hardly believe it."_

_"Mai..." he whispered, then catching himself, spoke more strongly. "Would you mind explaining what the __**hell**__ is going on here?"_

_She blinked up at him owlishly, obviously deeply pleased with the success of her venture. "I disguised myself, replaced the messenger who was supposed to carry the missive, and came to you instead. I will not marry Ryuunomei. I will only marry you."_

_The sheer enormity and naivete of her words bowled him over, and he fell to his knees in pure shock. "You... what? __**What?"**_

_She frowned prettily. "Did I explain it badly? I am sorry. "_

_"No, I think I understand __**what **__you did... my question is, __**why? **__Are you __**insane?"**_

_His heart was at war with itself. On one side, he was deeply moved by what she'd done for him and what her act indicated-- she wanted to be with him, and was willing to go through suffering and fear to do it._

_On the other, he saw that this would be seen as an act of rebellion by her family-- and that she would be in deep trouble for it-- and was very afraid of the outcome of the situation._

_"Inutaisho?" she whispered, taken aback by the harsh tone of his voice._

_"Do you realize what you are doing?" he snapped, his fear winning over his joy. "As soon as your family finds out about this, they'll hunt you down and you'll become a disgraced prisoner. You'll suffer, and then possibly die if they see the situation as unsalvageable. At the very least, you'll be disowned and exiled. At the worst, you'll die and the Eastlord will use the insult of your refusal as an excuse to start a war with us in the West. You may have just..." He stopped._

_She was crying, silently, hair curtaining her face._

_"Mai? Oh, Mai, I am so sorry. I am just afraid for you, is all. You may have just caused your own death, and I cannot bear the thought of that. Ahh, you silly woman. Come here." He knelt and enveloped her in a deep embrace, pressing his lips to her hair and tangling his fingers in it._

_She threw her weight into his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around him, sobbing into his chest. "I did not... did not think," she gasped. "I did not think about the possibility of war! I only thought... oh, Inutaisho, I am __**so sorry**__!"_

_"Hush," he murmured, heart breaking at what he knew he must do. Every cell in his body screamed at him to take her away and never let her go, but... He was a practical man "It is not too late. If you go back now, you can convince them that you merely wished to bid me farewell. Everything will continue as though nothing happened."_

_She stiffened beneath him, as he'd known she would. "What are you saying?" she sniffled, hurt. "You do not want to be with me?"_

_His breaking heart splintered and drove into the walls of his chest. "Oh, __**gods**__, Mai, that is not it at all! I have been thinking about this for the last several hours and I just do not see any way for us to be together in practicality."_

_"Really?" she gasped painfully, a hurtful chill in her voice: "Not even one way? I will do anything, Inutaisho, even leave the island if I must. I will leave behind my title and royal life without a second thought. Do you think I need everything to be perfect? I do not! All I want is to stay with you, wherever I can!"_

_His eyes burned and his lacerated chest constricted. "Mai... even so, they will hunt us down. We would never be safe. I cannot bear the thought of you living in fear for your life all your days. Please, my love..." he paused, gulping back the bile rising in his throat, "...go home, and go through with your family's wishes. It is best for everyone if you do."_

_"I cannot believe you are saying this," she wailed. "I came all this way, and you are going to turn around and send me back?"_

_He could hear her silent plea not to send her away, not to leave her alone. It tore him to shreds, but he could not give in. The stakes were too high. "Mai, I am sorry," he whispered._

_She pulled away, shaking, eyes full of betrayal. "Then I will go," she said, voice suddenly remote and distant, "since you obviously do not want me to stay."_

_She turned and began walking back to the forest, fists clenched at her sides and shoulders hunched._

_He wanted so badly to run to her, turn her around and kiss her until the stars rose above them. The impulse was so powerful that his skin was nearly tearing itself off his obstinate bones, but he knew that if he did so he would never have the strength to send her away. And send her away he must. For her own good, and that of their countries._

_She paused and turned her head back. Silver trails of tears clawed their way down her reddened cheeks. "Fare thee well, __**Lord **__Inutaisho."_

_The honorific hit him like a hammer to the chest._

_Mai kept walking, and did not look back._

OoooooO

_Insultingly, they received the invitation to the wedding in the mail barely a week later._

_To the Inu Family:_

_It is our great honour to invite you to attend the wedding of the Lord of the East, Ryuunomei the Strong, to the daughter of the esteemed lord from the West, Iruka Mai. The wedding will take place on the night of the first full moon of autumn, a most auspicious date, at the ancestral Dragon Palace. Gifts are welcome and appreciated._

_We hope to see you there._

_Ryuu Yema,_

_Secretary of State Affairs_

_Ryuu Family_

_Inutaisho read it once, then left it on the table and went to the lake._

_**I am not really considering going, am I? Am I mad? **_

_**I cannot believe they actually invited us. It is incredibly callous, considering the situation. **_

_**Could I handle watching her being given to him?**_

_**No.**_

_**A hundred, thousand times no. **_

_**And yet, if I do not go, they will see it as an insult and cause difficulty for us. What should I do? **_

_He knew that by now the engagement ceremony would be complete, drinks and gifts exchanged and promises made. For all intents and purposes, the engagement was now unbreakable. It was too late to protest the union, now._

_**You're really going to let this go? **__a voice in his head said accusingly._

_**Hello, conscience**__, he replied wearily. __**I do not want to, but what else can I do?**_

_**Take her back.**_

_**And risk war?**_

_**Is she not worth that much at least? **_

_**I cannot be the cause of so much suffering. Not for my family, nor for hers, nor for all the people who would die in such a war. **_

_**If they start a war, then that is their choice. You could not blame yourself for their stupidity. **_

_Inutaisho was at a loss. What his conscience said made sense, but everything he'd been raised to believe was throwing itself against what he wanted to believe._

_**Could this really work out well? I cannot help but believe that is could only end badly if I am selfish enough to...**_

_**It seems she has no problem with that. She is willing to risk everything-- how can you call yourself a man if you are not willing to do at least as much?**_

_**That is a low blow.**_

_**You do it to yourself. **_

_Was it just him, or did his own inner self sound smug? This entire situation was driving him literally mad. He had to come to a conclusion, and soon, else..._

OoooooO

_It was not, perhaps, the wisest thing he had ever done._

_However, it was simply insupportable to have his promised wife married to his rival. Though he'd initially come to terms with the concept, he could no longer bear the thought of her in the arms of the serpent._

_That was why he was flying to take her back. Yes, a very foolish idea, but he could not honourably act otherwise. Inutaisho's noble conscience would not allow him to do otherwise._

_The wedding party appeared below him, bedecked in colourful glowing lanterns and ostentatious silk garb. At the head of the party knelt Mai, pale and subdued, opposite a gloating Ryuunomei. The wedding vows were obviously underway already._

_Inutaisho began his descent._

_Halfway down, it became apparent that something had changed. Mai was no longer quiescent and beaten. She was holding her head high and saying something that angered Ryuunomei greatly. The dragon lord's face darkened. He yelled something that was almost audible to Inutaisho, then raised his hand._

_The dog prince willed himself to fall faster. Almost...!_

_With barely a breath to spare, he ghosted between his love and her almost-mate, taking the blow meant for her on his own arm. _

_Thus ensued a brief but vicious struggle, which Inutaisho won after garnering several minor wounds from the dragon's claws._

_"Are you coming with me?" he asked his silver maiden, who was staring up at him with joy that was blindingly radiant._

_"Yes," she answered, and that was that._

OooooO

So had begun the feud that spanned millennia.

Inutaisho had been laughed at for the foolhardy decision to begin a war for the sake of a woman. Since he had been expecting it, it slid off his skin like rain off swan feathers and left him mostly unruffled. Mai had had a harder time of it. She had been used to the approval and sanction of her family, and it was a new experience for her to be constantly in a state of rebellion.

It wounded her more than she would ever let on when her mother's eyes filled with tears upon seeing her on Inutaisho's arm, or when her father scowled and turned away whenever she attempted to speak to him.

Compared to that, the gossip-mongers of the court were almost mild.

"Surely no woman could ever be worth a war," they derisively said over and over again. "He has made a Great Mistake."

They had stopped laughing at around the century mark, when it had become clear that the woman was indeed worth a war-- _ten _wars-- to Inutaisho.

He tried to summon up the same confidence in this newest Great Mistake but failed, alarmingly. There were so many more ways that this could end in tragedy, now that there was innocent life involved. What he and Izayoi had done was reckless and irresponsible, and now they would have to face the repercussions of it.

It bothered him to remember the discussion. Deciding so quickly was out of character for both of them, and he remembered feeling swept along in a rushing current that left him no time to think.

_Perhaps this is Fate intervening directly?_

It was easy to convince himself of that. It rang true to him, though he was not a seer or mystically inclined in any way. All he felt firm about was that the child had to be born. It was the wrong time, the wrong place, the wrong situation, the wrong _everything_, but somehow he knew that it was meant to happen. The gods had their fingers-- perhaps their entire hands-- into this one, and he was helpless before them.

The child would be born, and destiny would take it from there.

"Show me this valley. I will help you build."

Inutaisho nodded at Sakenmaru, and together they set off. There was little else in their power to rectify the situation, and so, both being men of action, they did what they could.

It would just have to be enough.

**XoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxX**

**A/N: **This chapter was written before Sessmom showed up in the manga, so you'll have to excuse the discrepancy for now.


	27. Cage

**A/N: **All righty! This chapter's been through two-and-a-half betas now, so it should be error-free for your reading pleasure.

It only took me one night to write it, but a week to take out the bits I put in the day after when I was sober again. Apparently I write much, much better when I'm drunk. My friends are trying to convince me this is somehow a good thing. Something about how my subconscious mind is actually a better at grammar than my waking mind. Figures.

I really hope you enjoy this chapter. It's one of my favourites thus far-- an all-too-brief happily-ever-after for our fate-struck young lovers. After this chapter, it starts charging full-speed for the climax. Look forward to it!

Love,

Empatheia

**xoxox**

_**Chapter XXVII: Cage**_

**xoxox**

"Do you love me?" she asked.

She was dancing again. She did that often, because she knew he loved it. Especially by firelight, because it made him think of caves and green soup and the self she had shown him even before trusting him. Her arms drew ephemeral trails in the air and he could not lie even if he had wanted to.

"Yes," he answered.

Izayoi danced and loved him back.

Seventeen days it had taken him to build safety for his beloved, and now all he needed was an opportunity to show it to her and convince her that it didn't mean any of the things she would immediately--helplessly-- assume it did.

For an instant, the curves of her perfectly reflected those of the curving flames; then the fire moved again and she could not keep up. Or possibly, it could not keep up with her. Her hair flickered like black fire, and at last he could not stand it anymore. Inutaisho stood and moved to his perfectly human lover, catching her whirling body in his arms and pressing his mouth to her throat. Her limbs stilled, but her hair continued on its flight to wrap around them both, a star-swallowing cloak.

He murmured the syllables of her name into her flesh, and she sang his back to him.

There were no clothes to remove, not here in their private windowless sanctuary. There was only skin and breath and hair between them. Izayoi's hands wandered the scar-swept plains of his back, and his traced the tattoo on her shoulder. Why was it that everything he loved was marked by his enemy? There was no escaping him, even here in their hidden valley. The dragon prince was everywhere, but though it should have been easy for him to taint their love, they would not allow it.

Inutaisho turned her around to press his lips to the twining tattoo, not in mockery but in acceptance. Denial of the truth would get neither of them anywhere. Ryuunomei was a part of both of them, a part they would have to deal with sooner or later.

Inutaisho much preferred 'later.'

He did not want to think of everything that had gone wrong in his life, of everything black and frightening and unlovely that made it hard for him to be happy. He did not want to give any of it access to his idyll, but it was coming anyway. _He_ was coming anyway.

Izayoi had to leave, and soon. The pregnancy would make itself known very soon, and she would not be safe there with him and the army, paradoxically enough. None of them would be enough to protect her if the dragon came for her. Her own magic was of little use without someone else to channel it... without Naruka, who would be busy doing other things and would not be able to stay with her at all times. Her only safety was in distance and concealment. Thus, the castle of pine and river-stone Inutaisho had built for her.

He made love to her with all the gentle ferocity of his heart, both careless of the blood they drew with nails and teeth. Death was so near, so near.

"You must go," he whispered in the aftermath.

"Where?" she murmured back, not understanding.

Inutaisho explained, and felt her stiffen within the circle of his arms.

"I'm pregnant?" Izayoi sounded terrified, and awed, and several other things he couldn't quite name. Her fingers tangled themselves into his hair and would not let go.

"Is it not happy news for you?" He prayed for her negative answer, because he was sure it would break his heart to have his child unwelcome within her. After all they'd been through together, after everything she'd said, everything she'd convinced him of, she had to want it or he would fall apart within himself.

"No!" she cried, dispelling his fear. "Of course it isn't! Wasn't it my idea? I'm just...a little frightened, is all. Raising a child in such a place at such a time..."

Inutaisho heard the echo of Sakenmaru in her voice, and was just a little bit glad. Perhaps she would understand yet. "That is why you must leave. I have built you a palace in a safe place..."

She twisted to look at him, eyes wide, and he couldn't continue. "You're sending me away?"

"For your own safety, and the child's."

The look on her face drove spikes into his gut. As he'd suspected, she immediately assumed it was because he thought she would be useless in battle and training now that she was carrying. That hurt her immensely, and he couldn't even think of the words to deny the silent accusation.

"You lie!"

He shook his head wordlessly, pleading with her to understand. It had _nothing_ to do with weakness.

"I do not," he said gently. "Sakenmaru and Katsuro would never forgive me if I let you stay. I would never forgive myself. Ryuunomei will be looking for this place, and you cannot be here when he finds it. Izayoi, beloved, it has nothing to do with you being unable to be of use. You should know I do not think of you only in such terms. You must be safe, and so you must leave."

As he spoke, she grew steadily more distant, and he could not figure out why.

"I understand," she said remotely, at last. "I will go."

His heart quietly shattered in its ivory cage.

xxxxx

The castle was beautiful, as if that was any consolation. The polished wooden strakes of its hallways were dark and smooth and cold beneath her feet, and the paper walls had no secrets, not yet.

The valley too was lovely, stark and tree-grown and untouched by the feet of man. The mountain peaks above her were remote but gave her a sense of protection, as though they were standing sentinel for her, stoic and silent silver-haired warriors.

"Must I?" she asked quietly, and didn't need to hear Inutaisho's reply to know. She touched a pillar, seeing prison in its grainy whorls.

The inevitable thoughts crowded her mind:

_He doesn't need me._

_I'm just a diversion to distract him from the loss of his wife._

_He only wants me because his rival wants me too._

_His son is more precious than I am. This castle is to protect the child, not me._

_I'm just a vessel for his seed._

_He's tired of me and this place is his way of keeping me close enough for amusement but not close enough for annoyance._

She knew in her heart of hearts that the thoughts were absolutely ridiculous and as far from the truth as it was possible to be, but they would not go away and they hurt her so much. Izayoi pressed her fingertips and palms together and tried not to cling to him. She hated this part of herself, the part that Ryuunomei had cultivated and brought to rampant life during her time under his fingers, the part of her that constantly fought against her faith in her lover and her trust in her friends. It would not die, though there was no longer any need for it.

"I have designated a platoon of soldiers to protect this place, and you will have servants enough. I have called them from my home to take care of you. You will want for nothing, I promise you." Empty words, but the meaning behind them was true enough. _I love you, please don't be angry._

So Izayoi swallowed her hurt and fury and smiled at him. "Thank you for this," she said. One deep breath. "If the war..._when_ the war ends, come for me?" She had meant it to be a statement, but it had come out as a question instead. That was all right. She wanted to know the answer.

"I promise," he said, and then she was engulfed in him: his robes, his hair, his arms, his heart. There was no part of him that wasn't holding her at that moment.

Izayoi would not allow herself to cry, for his sake rather than her own. There would be plenty of time to cry later on. Demon pregnancies took longer to gestate than human ones, and so it would be next winter by the time she gave birth. Days and weeks and months in which to weep alone, oh yes. There was no need to do it now when it would hurt the person she loved most.

Her eyes burned.

xxxxx

It was not until three days after Inutaisho left to return to his duty that she discovered it.

"Oh, no," she whispered when the leader of the guards came to pay obeisance to her.

"Are you so unhappy to see me?" Takemaru said.

Izayoi wondered despairingly how he'd done it. How had he fooled Katsuro _and_ Inutaisho into letting him head the division of soldiers meant to protect her? Neither of them trusted him farther than they could spit. He must have set someone else up as the leader, had them include him in the force, then taken control after Inutaisho's departure.

It was devious and if Inutaisho found out he would do murder, for certain.

She could not allow that. This was Takemaru, after all, her first love and oldest friend. Despite his idiocy, she still loved him and could never let him be hurt. So, whenever Inutaisho came to visit, she would smile and forget as best she could that Takemaru was nearby so that her mate would not realize and kill him.

It was not as simple as it sounded. She was not a good liar. Inutaisho would probably suspect something, and if Katsuro or Sakenmaru or Naruka came, they would _definitely_ suspect. It would take everything she had to protect Takemaru.

She resented having to.

Thus, the next time she saw him, she slapped him as hard as she could. "Idiot," she said.

Takemaru did not understand.

Even later, when she gently applied a poultice to his bruised cheek, he did not understand. She did not feel like explaining it at that time. Perhaps later.

xxxxx

Life in the palace was idyllic but boring without the one who had built it. She and the lady courtiers sat and drank tea and sang together, but without Inutaisho there was no real happiness.

Her belly swelled.

For several weeks, Inutaisho did not come. Near the end, desperate and just a little mad with loneliness, she thought about seducing someone, _anyone._ Her favourite lady-in-waiting, Hikari, perhaps. Like her name, she was bright and kind and made the loneliness just a little bit easier to bear. It would not be so bad to be touched by her. Because she was not a man, it would not feel so much like a betrayal.

However, Izayoi resisted, and was rewarded when at last he returned. She hadn't really wanted anyone else anyway. It was just the touch that she craved.

"Beloved," he said, and his deep voice thrummed through her bones.

She threw herself into his arms and he carried her to the bedroom he had built for them both. That time, there was no blood, only caresses and blushing skin.

His thrusts were like the ebb and flow of the ocean rather than his usual driving fury. For her, it was total ecstasy of a different sort than every time before.

Every day, he became stronger and colder and less the childish man he had been when she had met him. His passion grew with him, and his wisdom. Every day she found more of him that was worthy of love.

xxxxx

Every time he came to visit, he was different than the last time, but never worse. He no longer stumbled over words or showed insecurity. He no longer feared anything but her pain, suffering, or death. Nothing that could be done to him fazed him in the slightest.

The bodies of youkai aged slowly, but sometimes, with great pressure, their spirits could grow in leaps and bounds. Such was Inutaisho's growth, so quickly that even Izayoi could see it.

He was colder, but also more beautiful, and he never shut her out. She could still make him whimper and lose all control when she brought him into her arms and her heart. He was coming into himself, and every day her desire for him expanded.

xxxxx

It was cold in the mountains at night, even in the summer. Her customary clothing left her shivering and chilled after the sun set. Inutaisho traced her goosebumps with his tongue and pressed his hot skin to hers to warm her, and it was another form of love.

The next time he came to visit, he brought her a gift-- a many-layered _kimono_ from the north. The first five layers were of the thinnest silk and of varying shades of blue, his favourite colour. The overlayer was rosy pink and complemented her complexion. She didn't need to hear him say so to know that Naruka had been involved in its selection.

It was a very warm outfit, made warmer by the knowledge that her lover and her friend had selected it for her out of love. Though it was more feminine and royal than she was used to, she wore it every day and learned to love it. She did not, of course, know of its other significance...it was a robe for royalty, for princesses and noblemen's daughters. She would not have cared even had she known.

It delighted him to peel her out of it, layer by silken layer.

It delighted her as well to feel them falling away.

Her old set of forest-green _hakama _and _haori_ sat in storage, unused.

xxxxx

So many steps away from her, Inutaisho and her friends trained an army to kill her oldest enemy and oldest lover. Her loneliness and helplessness and her swiftly expanding pregnancy took the edge off her old causticity. She became strangely soft and womanly.

She no longer swore or screamed at people, but there was a strength to her that every inhabitant of the castle respected.

xxxxx

"Hold me," she told him, and it wasn't really a request.

Inutaisho smoothed the wrinkles out of her silk with his fingers as he encircled her. She had changed in her stay in this castle of clouds and mist and summer dew, but every change only brought her closer to the true Izayoi he had seen in her firelit dance in that cave, so long ago. He loved her with everything he had, because he had nothing else to give her despite his wishes. If he could, he would have given her everything-- the world, the stars, the moon, the creatures and growing things of the world, everything that made her happy. Because he couldn't, he touched her and tried to say with his fingers and his mouth what he could not say with words.

He liked to believe she understood.

xxxxx

Takemaru watched from the shadows and hated with enough passion to turn the world on his own.

Izayoi never had words for him beyond 'thank you for keeping me safe' and 'isn't the weather nice?' He hated it and hated her and loved every second of it.

She was everything to him. There were many emotions that a human was capable of feeling: love, hate, desire, regret, contentment, anger, fear, so many others in addition to those. Izayoi inspired all of them in him, and she didn't even seem to understand.

"Let me love you," he cried to her, but she never heard him. All she heard was 'do you need anything, Izayoi-hime? Is there anything I can do for you?' She never wanted anything from him, and he had everything to give. It was a green tragedy, and she didn't even see it.

Takemaru was not an evil person. He was a man with a heart as large as the sea and as accepting. Yet he was just as capable of hate and resentment, and it was in that direction that he turned when Izayoi smiled and refused his devotion.

He had a sword. He could protect her with his life, if it came to that. He was not powerful but he was strong. He hoped it would be enough when the time came.

Swords were also good for more than protection.

xxxxx

"Inutaisho!" she cried joyfully as she rushed across the courtyard to greet him. The silken gift she wore was a hindrance, but she could not bring herself to mind too much when he was right there and waiting for her.

She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his, memorizing the shape of them for future reference.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, a joke if she had ever heard one.

Izayoi knew Takemaru was watching from the shadows, but for a moment she was wise and knew that it was not her fault that he was in pain. That was his stone to carry, not hers--even if it broke him, it still did not belong to her. When Inutaisho had his arms around her, she had no problems.

Inutaisho taught her a new level of passion that night, and she accepted and loved him back as well as she could. Human passion was just as powerful-- in a different way-- than demon passion, as she demonstrated to him time and time again.

He loved to touch and kiss her belly. It felt strange but pleasant to her to have it touched. There was life, burgeoning and nascent, within herself, and she felt too small to contain its purity and overflowing light. It was a fierce life, and a beautiful one. She couldn't wait to see its face.

Her fear that one or both of them would die too soon for her child's birth did not fade. Rather, she slowly learned to live with it. It was best to simply trust in the divine and let it do as it would.

xxxxx

Inutaisho visited as much as he could over the chill mountain summer.

Izayoi showed him her favourite places to pick wildflowers and herbs, and her favourite places to walk and sing. The mountains around held many treasures, and she loved to share them with him. He loved how she was almost happy when she was breathing the gentle hanging scent of pines and wild grasses.

They grew older by the day, but Izayoi seemed to become younger every time he saw her. Perhaps it was the falling away of ancient memory.

Younger, and more beautiful.

Despite her heavy belly, she still danced for him, and had a different colour of careful grace than before. She lost nothing, and gained true beauty, more and more of it as moments flickered and passed.

Increasingly, all he could think was _Mai would have loved her._

_Mai would have loved her so much. _

xxxxx

Izayoi had known all along that her stolen moments of tranquillity and happiness would eventually end, but she had not expected _this, _this violet horror invading her mind in the darkest hours of the morning.

She cried hot silver tears onto her crystal and pressed trembling fingers to her face.

So that was it. That was how the rest of her life would go. _So be it_, she thought. Then...

_He will be so angry. So angry. _

**XoxoxoxoxoxoX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	28. Spirit

**A/N: **Thank you to my betas **ALF **and **lotus faerie**, who saved this chapter's life back when I wrote it.

Enjoy!

**xoxoxox**

_**Chapter XXIX: Wind**_

**xoxoxox**

The wind told him she was coming.

He could smell her on it, a scent similar to the herbal balm she was fond of making with mint and sweetgrass. It was usually soothing to him, but not today. Ryuunomei pressed a hand to his forehead and sat up from his position draped across his private porch. His white robe fell back into place with nary a twitch, being woven of very fine material. It was a perfect early autumn afternoon, but the wind was cold.

He had a fair idea what she wanted.

What frightened him was that he was very close to giving it to her.

Over his long life, Ryuunomei had made a point of not caring about people any more than was necessary to keep them out of his hair. He ruled his kingdom fairly so there would be no irritating revolts, made examples of people when necessary, and in all truth treated politics much like a board game.

However, it was not true that he did not love. When he found things worthy of it, he gave more of himself than most people would. He disguised this generosity by asking the world of those he chose to love, but love them he did. Few realized or understood this. His brother was one of them, his beloved younger protege whom he had taught and shaped and stepped on in the attempt to make a fine demon lord of him.

Ryuunomei knew in his heart that he had failed somewhere down the line, for his brother was in many ways crueler and harder than even himself. There was no pity in him, nor forgiveness. Though very charismatic, he lacked the consideration for lives that would make him a truly great leader.

Though the people were not quite observant enough or wordly enough to see the full picture, Ryuunomei had been a great leader for millenia. They had enjoyed peace for the most part, and wars only when they grew too restless to be productive and when it was beneficial for the country. The East was fruitful and flourishing, and it was his doing.

The woman now flying towards with him the wind threatened to undo all of that.

Every great ruler has a downfall, and Ryuunomei was wise enough to recognize that his was her. More than anyone else, she had driven him to cruelty and sadism in an effort to counteract the changes she wrought in him. The more he felt like giving in to her unspoken wishes, the more he had forced himself to deny her and hurt her. The more he felt like loving her gently, the more he forced himself to torment her.

For years and years he'd done this, and now he was tired.

He was weary to the bone of fighting himself over her, weary of rationalizing his actions, weary of not being happy. She wanted to love him, and he thought he was finally tired enough to let her.

She would ask for peace when she got here, he knew. She would try and convince him to give up the battle with his enemy and withdraw his forces.

If he agreed, his people would hate him but he would feel worthy of her love at long last. If he refused, his kingdom would remain strong despite losing many soldiers, but she would finally give up on him and he would lose her forever.

It should not have been worth the trade. It should not.

He got to his feet and went to gate to greet her, still undecided.

_Oh weeping heavens, but I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. _

xxxxx

It was the colour of the walls in the room he took her to that convinced her she'd made the right decision.

They were periwinkle blue, stained with painstaking care by a master. The colour was calm and warm and peaceful, totally unlike what anyone else would have expected of it. The wall belonged to a dictator-- should it not have been stark white and unadorned?

No one but Izayoi knew of Ryuunomei's secret passion for colour. He hid it carefully, seeing it as a feminine weakness that he could never reveal to his subjects. It was one of the reasons she loved him, among many others. She ran her fingers over the pale blue walls and smiled sadly.

Ryuunomei followed her into the room and swiftly slid the _shoji _shut behind them. His eyes were tumultous with confusion and hope... and not a little anger. "You dare," he whispered ferociously. "You _dare_ to come here with that filth in your belly!"

Izayoi held a protective hand over her swelling stomach and smiled. "I'm sorry about bringing him here, but I couldn't really help it. I hope you understand."

He sneered at her attempt at humour. "Explain yourself. You have one minute."

Izayoi let her hands fall to rest loosely at her sides, with the palms open and facing forwards. "I came because I believe you are wise enough to listen to me, and flexible enough in your pride to let yourself be convinced."

Ryuunomei pushed his radiant violet hair off his forehead in a gesture of frustration. His white silken robe hung off his thin shoulders and seemed to drag him towards the floor. He had lost weight since Inutaisho had rescued her from the tear-sodden earth before her father's grave. There were enormous blueish bags beneath his blood-shot eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked tiredly.

Izayoi felt a surge of relief. He was willing to listen. That was half the battle won. "I had a vision," she said matter-of-factly, meeting his wild green eyes with all the serenity she could muster. She had decided long ago that the best approach was to simply tell him what she'd seen, without embellishment. He would make his own decision no matter what she said, and would look more favourably on her viewpoint if she didn't try to sell it to him.

"I saw the battle between you and Inutaisho," she began with her head held high though the fear she felt dragged it towards the ground. "You fought for many hours, and then you lost. Inutaisho tore you to bleeding shreds and you begged him for death. While you begged, your brother caught him unawares and slew him. You died of your wounds in the mud, with no dignity. Your brother came after me in vengeance and tore me apart. My child he ripped from my belly and cut to pieces before my eyes. Then, at last... _I_ died."

All the while she spoke, Izayoi never broke her unblinking gaze with Ryuunomei. Every word she said came arrowing from the truth and struck powerfully home. She could see the effect in his face-- he grew steadily paler and began to tremble as she went along.

"I died in the rain with my blood soaking into the mud, weeping and crying out the names of those I loved. Inutaisho, of course... and you. The last word on my lips was your name."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Ryuunomei in a bare whisper, face resembling raw rice. "What purpose do you have here? Why have you come?"

Izayoi walked up to him, so terrified that she could hardly even feel it anymore. With steady hands, she reached up and touched his face. "I don't want Inutaisho to die." She felt him stiffen, but continued relentlessly nevertheless. "I don't want my son to die. I don't want any of those warriors to die... and I don't want _you _to die."

"Do you mean that?" Ryuunomei asked raggedly. "You really don't wish I was gone forever, and unable to plague your life ever again? You truly do not desire my death?"

"No." She looked at the periwinkle walls and felt tears flood her eyes. "I have never wished for that."

Ryuunomei made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a cry, a frustrated strangled sound that told her just how conflicted he felt. His fingers tangled in his hair and tightened so hard it seemed he would rip it all out by its very roots. "I can't back down now!" he cried. "If I call off the battle now, there will be a revolt!"

Izayoi took a deep breath. "If I asked, would you _want_ to change your mind?" she asked carefully. Everything hinged on his answer to that question. She prayed devoutly.

Ryuunomei paced back and forth across the small room for nearly a quarter of an hour, face contorted with indecision.

She merely waited and gazed at the walls, taking what comfort she could from their bright and childish shade. She saw a younger Ryuunomei in their shadows, a dragon prince untainted by expectation or judgement. She saw brilliant white teeth bared in a mischievous smile, and a gleeful romp through the austere corridors of the palace. Izayoi saw the truth of him, and prayed that he saw it too.

It was a slice of forever, her waiting and him pacing. Patience was all she had.

"If I say yes, will you force me to act on it?" he asked at last, his very bones bent and contracted into the center of his body. He looked like a pinched and tormented wraith from old folk fables, so pale that she was sure if she looked close enough she could look right through his sagging skin.

"No," she answered truthfully. "I will not 'force' you to do anything. Whatever you finally choose to do will be by your own choice, dictated by your own conscience."

Ryuunomei clutched his chest, digging his fingers into the white silk until it seemed he would puncture his flesh with his ragged claws. "Yes," he said with an air of tragic finality. "If you asked me-- and I had a choice-- I would put aside my feud... at least for the length of your life and that of your son's. However, I _don't_ have a choice. If I am to keep my kingdom unified, I have to give them the war I promised them."

Izayoi suddenly found that despite her joy at his words, she could not tear her gaze from the flowing patterns of the wall's colour. She stared into the ripples of colour and felt a familiar lilac-misted trance come over her. A moment later, it was over, but it was already far too late.

"No!" she cried, heartsick but helpless to do anything to stop what she had seen. Izayoi threw herself across the expanse of air between them, and felt the impact with her very soul. She kissed him frantically and caressed his bewildered face, trying to memorize the angles of his bones and the precise shade of his green eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

The door exploded.

_Ryuukossei has his brother's eyes _was the first and only thing Izayoi could think of when the dust cleared.

"So, you would rather let your lifelong enemy be... rather than take action and eradicate him, would you?" Ryuukossei gritted furiously. His braids snapped around his head like living serpents and his eyes glowed with the force of his anger.

"This is my business," Ryuunomei snapped. "You have no business here. Please leave."

Ryuukossei sneered and drew the wicked-looking sword at his hip. "I think not. I've seen the way you've weakened in the past few years, and I know it's because of this woman. You're pathetic, _nii-sama_. You're not fit to rule, and you haven't been for some time now. I am not the only one to have noticed-- I now act on behalf of the warriors who fight for you. If it were only myself, I would have let you live. They, however, demand your blood and my takeover."

Izayoi fell into a the far corner and sobbed, pressing her face and fingers and body and soul into the shade of blue that was his real self. Ryuukossei hardly even seemed to see her.

_Strength! Someone, please, lend me strength to save him! _she begged, but there was no strength forthcoming within her. It was fate that determined he should die here, and no matter how she pleaded and strove, it would not change.

At the very end, he had chosen rightly... and so he would be rewarded a death that spared him the sight of all he loved dying before his eyes.

"Why can't you accept the wisdom of the future I see?" Ryuunomei asked with his hands opened in front of him in a gesture of peace. "Blood is not needed to ensure happiness. Can't you just..."

"No, I can _not_," Ryuukotususei interrupted angrily. "The East needs a leader who isn't divided in his loyalty, who will not hesitate to conquer. That leader, as you've shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt now, is not you. I am capable of the job, and as your heir I will take good care of this land once you are dead. Your subjects will not allow anything else, so just give up now."

Izayoi picked herself up, still sobbing wildly, and dashed across the floor to stand between Ryuunomei and his murderous brother with her arms flung wide. Her eyes narrowed to slits and power swirled around her like an invisible mist. "Touch him and die," she gasped, only half aware of how dangerous her actions were.

"Iza-chan!" Ryuunomei cried. "Get out of the way, idiot woman! He'll kill you! Think of your child, you fool."

He was right, she realized. A choice between a man she loved and her child was no choice at all, for the man could try to protect himself while her child would have no chance. However, it still tore her apart to step aside and let what would be, be.

Ryuunomei heaved a sigh of relief once she was out of the way. "If you want to challenge my authority, you must do it honestly. I declare a duel. The winner will rule, and the loser will be stripped of power and banished, if he should survive."

"Accepted," Ryuukossei said tersely with a sick smile. "Lead the way, _nii-sama._"

XxxxxX

A space had been cleared for them in the central courtyard, a bare circle of earth. The expectation of blood lay heavy over the gathered spectators. Izayoi had a place of honour at the edge of the space, but she was sworn not to enter it until the duel was done.

The chill autumn wind hissed through the tiles of the rooftops, carrying a message of coming snow in its clean bite. It was a blade wind, and sang with the swords of the combatants within it.

Izayoi's ragged black banner of hair blew in it like a death flag. She knew what was coming but was helpless to stop it. So she memorized the motions of Ryuunomei's sword and the slant of his summer-green eyes. It was autumn and the leaves were turning colour. Summer-green no longer had a place. Izayoi silently swore to remember the exact shade of those eyes come dead of winter.

There was green and violet fire mixed in with the flashing of their swords– demon lords would not restrain themselves to a battle of pure steel. Magic had to have a place in battle, or what was the point of having it? Izayoi understood how they thought, but it still hurt to see flesh singed and blackened by the harsh touch of supernatural flames.

She clasped her hands before her so tightly she could feel the small bones in her fingers grind together.

Ryuunomei ducked a heavy swing of Ryuukossei's sword and lashed out nimbly with his thinner blade. A line of red appeared across Ryuukossei's upper thigh, and the younger dragon hissed furiously. His eyes had turned virulently green and strong black triangular marks crept across his forehead from his hairline and up his cheeks from his chin.

In a flash, Izayoi understood what was about to happen. "Run!" she cried, whirling about in a flurry of forest-green silk and pushing the soldiers directly behind her as hard as she could. "He's going to transform. Run!"

The soldiers got the hint immediately, their eyes widening. They turned tail and bolted. Izayoi raced after them a little more slowly, disadvantaged by her human blood.

Behind them, the air exploded into an invisible wave that knocked the fleeing figures over. A flood of dust churned over their heads before the battle wind caught it and lifted it high into the sky.

Izayoi knew from memory what she would see when she picked herself up and turned around, but the impact was not lessened at all by expectation. The brothers loomed over her and soldiers, massive violent serpents with blazing green eyes and iron horns sweeping back off their foreheads. Ryuunomei was slimmer and sleeker, but the spikes stabbing from the back of his skull belied any notion of weakness. Ryuukossei was bulkier but slower.

"Oh, goddess," Izayoi gasped, eyes enormous.

The splintered remains of the castle shifted under their scaly bellies. Izayoi felt bright tears sting her eyes for the people who had not escaped before the transformation, and made another vow silently to herself.

_He will pay for this. This was not necessary._

Realizing suddenly that she was still easily within battle range of the now much-larger brothers, she turned and ran as fast as she could to the edge of the forest near the castle. When she arrived, she was terribly winded and her back ached abominably, but she felt reasonably assured that the effects of the battle would not reach her there.

She could still see quite clearly. The wind cleared away any dust as fast as the fighters could churn it up, so her view of the battle was not impeded in the slightest.

The tall yellow grass between her and the battle was flattened nearly to the ground with the force of the wild wind. She found it hard to stand her ground and her hair pulled her head sideways until her neck ached from holding it straight, but she could not allow herself to turn aside.

_I must witness. _Izayoi half-wished the battle would go on forever. The battle's end would mean death for someone, red blood drizzling out into the grass and thirsty earth.

No sooner had she thought it then the battle ended. Ryuukossei ducked his brother's half-hearted and weary swing, then returned the blow with all his strength. Ryuunomei was too tired to dodge, not being accustomed to battle. The edge of the blade gashed deeply across his chest, slipping between his massive ribs to cut into his soft innards.

Izayoi screamed, eyes widen open and fixed on the sight of Ryuunomei slowly toppling. She screamed until her throat tore itself ragged and her lungs ached, but could not move a muscle. The wind screamed with her, howling through the trees and slender grasses. It sounded almost sentient, as though it was overjoyed at the slaking of its bloodlust.

Izayoi out-screamed the wind.

"You next!" rasped the deep voice of the victor high above her.

She looked up to see Ryuukossei's great serpent belly looming over her, but could feel no fear over her horror.

"This is your fault," Ryuukossei raged. "I would never have had to kill him if you hadn't weakened him so much!" Massive tears trailed down his craggy face. "Your fault! Die, you _whore!_"

Ryuukossei's vast mouth descended down towards her. His teeth were as long as she was tall and glistened with saliva. They were so white they nearly blinded her to the dark cavern beyond them– something she was obscurely grateful for.

There was no escape. No matter how fast she ran, he was simply too large. He would catch her before she took two steps. Izayoi stared up into the black tunnel and wondered if she would really die this time. Her eyes were frozen open.

_Inutaisho, you can beat me up for this all you want when you come join me in the afterlife,_ she thought wryly. _Hold the door open for me, will you, Mai?_

Izayoi felt the demon woman's bright silver presence moments before Ryuukossei's teeth reached her, and her eyes widened.

_Do not give up yet. Be ready._

"Wha..." Izayoi started to say before a heavy comet impacted her chest and she was yanked off her feet into the air. The air burst from her lungs and for a moment the agony was too much to accept. She felt unconsciousness waver at the edges of her vision.

"Don't pass out," Ryuunomei's ragged voice said into her ear. "Please stay awake and hold on."

"You're dead," she murmured muzzily, but she managed to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist so that his legs would be free. His arms circled her tightly under her arms.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, "but very close. I'm going to take you back to your lover. Anything you can do to keep me moving until then would be much appreciated.

The full impact of the situation finally hit Izayoi as her head cleared. "Stop!" she cried, "you'll make your wounds worse! Set down so I can treat you!"

"Sorry, Iza-chan," he said wryly. "This is nothing you can fix. I'm dying at last. All I want is to keep going until I can get you to safety. Can you try and stanch the bleeding just for a little while?"

Hot tears poured from Izayoi's eyes. "Stop," she begged. "You might be wrong. Let me see."

"Shut up and do what you can!" he snapped, straining to go a little faster. The battle wind blew at their backs, speeding their passage through the air.

Sobbing, Izayoi called her power and tried her best to block the severed blood vessels with energy. It did not work very well since she'd had no training in healing arts, but it worked well enough to keep him in the air.

When she'd done everything she could, she pressed her face into the side of his neck and shook with grief. "I hadn't even asked yet," she said through her tears.

"You wanted to ask," he said quietly, "and that was enough for me. You were right all along, Iza-chan... Izayoi. I am too fond of blood by half. There will be consequences for me after I fall through the veil."

She could not deny it. He had been the cause of death for thousands of people, some of them through awful and painful means. He deserved punishment without doubt. Still...

Still, as they flew timelessly through the air, hair twining together and blood trailing them like crimson rain, she wished she could spare him that. He had chosen rightly in the end.

_You made the right decision at the very end, my love. Thank you._

XxxxxxX

They flew for perhaps an hour at a speed Izayoi had difficulty comprehending, until at last they reached the mountains.

She took a deep breath and inhaled Inutaisho's youki. Her eyes tightened. He wasn't supposed to be back from the encampment for several days yet. _Why is he home so early?_

They were still half-an-hour's flight out from the valley, but Inutaisho was flying to meet them.

Izayoi tightened her hold on Ryuunomei and tried desperately to preserve those last moments.

They were over all too soon– the dying dragon prince finally ran himself dry. They fell like autumn leaves, spiraling gracefully down into the waiting branches of the mountain forest. Izayoi shut her eyes, but the impact never came. They landed softly on a carpet of leaves and earth. For an instant, they were suspended weightlessly upright... then Ryuunomei collapsed and they hit the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

Izayoi struggled her way out from under Ryuunomei's weight and pulled his head onto her lap. "Ryuunomei-sama?" she asked tentatively.

"Still here," he whispered with effort. The entire front of his once-white clothing was now blackish-red with drying blood, streaked here and there with the vibrant red of fresh blood.

Izayoi smoothed the hair off his forehead and struggled to breathe through a throat that seemed set on closing on her. "You foolish, brave man," she murmured. Her sight wavered with new tears.

"Stop crying," he ordered weakly. "I told you, I no longer want to see you cry. I have left that bloodthirsty self far behind."

"Can't help it," she choked, compulsively stroking his face.

"I have amends to make on the other side," he said. "Once I have made them, you may grieve for me. Not before then. How many people died because of that shield I made my brother put up? Thousands, I know. Until I have apologized to each of them and been forgiven, you are not permitted to shed tears for me."

Izayoi shook her head. Her hair fell to curtain about her lap and the dragon's head. "I refuse. I will grieve for you as much as I like. You can't stop me."

Ryuunomei chuckled and raised one hand to stroke the side of her face. His green eyes were gentle and peaceful as she had never seen them before, devoid of fear or insecurity or twistedness. "I always loved you, you know," he told her with a regretful smile. "Sorry I couldn't figure out how to tell you the normal way."

"I forgave you for that long ago," she said honestly, heart torn open with love. "I loved you too, and will keep loving you. I know what's on the other side. Wait for me there, all right?"

Ryuunomei coughed and spattered his chin with blood. "It's a promise," he gasped, "but don't be in any hurry to catch up, all right?"

"Promise," she whispered, and leaned over to kiss his reddened lips.

His last breath sighed out into her, and then he was still. She curled around his head and let herself weep with great racking sobs while his blood cooled on her lips.

XxxxxxX

That was how Inutaisho found her– blood-spattered and tear-reddened, clutching the stiff corpse of his greatest foe.

The raging anger that had been building since Myouga's frantic message (_she's gone, my lord, and her trail leads East)_ sputtered and died in the face of her grief. He was not heartless, and despite her tendency to do stupid things like this, he truly loved his human warrior-princess.

"Izayoi," he said bluntly, unsure of how to proceed. The ravenous worry that had been chewing at his gut eased once he saw that she was relatively unharmed.

_But what was she doing? _he wondered. _She did not really return to him, did she?_

"I'm sorry," she blurted without looking up. "I know you must be angry, but she told me this was what I had to do. Even if you chose to turn away, the aggression wouldn't stop unless he made it stop. I _had_ to go, I _had_ to!"

She was clearly incoherent with grief. Though he still could not make sense of his enemy's presence with her, he decided to deal with the living first and with his deep disappointment at not being the one to finally end Ryuunomei's life later.

He pulled off his haori, this one deep purple, and draped it over her shaking form. Carefully he extricated her from the mess that was Ryuunomei's body and scooped her up into his arms.

"I will return for you... _old friend_," he promised the pale face pillowed on the leaves.

The dragon's blood was already soaking into the earth.

**XoxoxoxoxoX**

**A/N: **TT I hate killing off characters.

Thanks for reading!


	29. Wind

**A/N: **Thank you to my betas **ALF **and **lotus faerie**, who saved this chapter's life back when I wrote it.

Enjoy!

**xoxoxox**

_**Chapter XXIX: Wind**_

**xoxoxox**

The wind told him she was coming.

He could smell her on it, a scent similar to the herbal balm she was fond of making with mint and sweetgrass. It was usually soothing to him, but not today. Ryuunomei pressed a hand to his forehead and sat up from his position draped across his private porch. His white robe fell back into place with nary a twitch, being woven of very fine material. It was a perfect early autumn afternoon, but the wind was cold.

He had a fair idea what she wanted.

What frightened him was that he was very close to giving it to her.

Over his long life, Ryuunomei had made a point of not caring about people any more than was necessary to keep them out of his hair. He ruled his kingdom fairly so there would be no irritating revolts, made examples of people when necessary, and in all truth treated politics much like a board game.

However, it was not true that he did not love. When he found things worthy of it, he gave more of himself than most people would. He disguised this generosity by asking the world of those he chose to love, but love them he did. Few realized or understood this. His brother was one of them, his beloved younger protege whom he had taught and shaped and stepped on in the attempt to make a fine demon lord of him.

Ryuunomei knew in his heart that he had failed somewhere down the line, for his brother was in many ways crueler and harder than even himself. There was no pity in him, nor forgiveness. Though very charismatic, he lacked the consideration for lives that would make him a truly great leader.

Though the people were not quite observant enough or wordly enough to see the full picture, Ryuunomei had been a great leader for millenia. They had enjoyed peace for the most part, and wars only when they grew too restless to be productive and when it was beneficial for the country. The East was fruitful and flourishing, and it was his doing.

The woman now flying towards with him the wind threatened to undo all of that.

Every great ruler has a downfall, and Ryuunomei was wise enough to recognize that his was her. More than anyone else, she had driven him to cruelty and sadism in an effort to counteract the changes she wrought in him. The more he felt like giving in to her unspoken wishes, the more he had forced himself to deny her and hurt her. The more he felt like loving her gently, the more he forced himself to torment her.

For years and years he'd done this, and now he was tired.

He was weary to the bone of fighting himself over her, weary of rationalizing his actions, weary of not being happy. She wanted to love him, and he thought he was finally tired enough to let her.

She would ask for peace when she got here, he knew. She would try and convince him to give up the battle with his enemy and withdraw his forces.

If he agreed, his people would hate him but he would feel worthy of her love at long last. If he refused, his kingdom would remain strong despite losing many soldiers, but she would finally give up on him and he would lose her forever.

It should not have been worth the trade. It should not.

He got to his feet and went to gate to greet her, still undecided.

_Oh weeping heavens, but I'm tired. I'm so, so tired. _

xxxxx

It was the colour of the walls in the room he took her to that convinced her she'd made the right decision.

They were periwinkle blue, stained with painstaking care by a master. The colour was calm and warm and peaceful, totally unlike what anyone else would have expected of it. The wall belonged to a dictator-- should it not have been stark white and unadorned?

No one but Izayoi knew of Ryuunomei's secret passion for colour. He hid it carefully, seeing it as a feminine weakness that he could never reveal to his subjects. It was one of the reasons she loved him, among many others. She ran her fingers over the pale blue walls and smiled sadly.

Ryuunomei followed her into the room and swiftly slid the _shoji _shut behind them. His eyes were tumultous with confusion and hope... and not a little anger. "You dare," he whispered ferociously. "You _dare_ to come here with that filth in your belly!"

Izayoi held a protective hand over her swelling stomach and smiled. "I'm sorry about bringing him here, but I couldn't really help it. I hope you understand."

He sneered at her attempt at humour. "Explain yourself. You have one minute."

Izayoi let her hands fall to rest loosely at her sides, with the palms open and facing forwards. "I came because I believe you are wise enough to listen to me, and flexible enough in your pride to let yourself be convinced."

Ryuunomei pushed his radiant violet hair off his forehead in a gesture of frustration. His white silken robe hung off his thin shoulders and seemed to drag him towards the floor. He had lost weight since Inutaisho had rescued her from the tear-sodden earth before her father's grave. There were enormous blueish bags beneath his blood-shot eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked tiredly.

Izayoi felt a surge of relief. He was willing to listen. That was half the battle won. "I had a vision," she said matter-of-factly, meeting his wild green eyes with all the serenity she could muster. She had decided long ago that the best approach was to simply tell him what she'd seen, without embellishment. He would make his own decision no matter what she said, and would look more favourably on her viewpoint if she didn't try to sell it to him.

"I saw the battle between you and Inutaisho," she began with her head held high though the fear she felt dragged it towards the ground. "You fought for many hours, and then you lost. Inutaisho tore you to bleeding shreds and you begged him for death. While you begged, your brother caught him unawares and slew him. You died of your wounds in the mud, with no dignity. Your brother came after me in vengeance and tore me apart. My child he ripped from my belly and cut to pieces before my eyes. Then, at last... _I_ died."

All the while she spoke, Izayoi never broke her unblinking gaze with Ryuunomei. Every word she said came arrowing from the truth and struck powerfully home. She could see the effect in his face-- he grew steadily paler and began to tremble as she went along.

"I died in the rain with my blood soaking into the mud, weeping and crying out the names of those I loved. Inutaisho, of course... and you. The last word on my lips was your name."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Ryuunomei in a bare whisper, face resembling raw rice. "What purpose do you have here? Why have you come?"

Izayoi walked up to him, so terrified that she could hardly even feel it anymore. With steady hands, she reached up and touched his face. "I don't want Inutaisho to die." She felt him stiffen, but continued relentlessly nevertheless. "I don't want my son to die. I don't want any of those warriors to die... and I don't want _you _to die."

"Do you mean that?" Ryuunomei asked raggedly. "You really don't wish I was gone forever, and unable to plague your life ever again? You truly do not desire my death?"

"No." She looked at the periwinkle walls and felt tears flood her eyes. "I have never wished for that."

Ryuunomei made a sound that was halfway between a moan and a cry, a frustrated strangled sound that told her just how conflicted he felt. His fingers tangled in his hair and tightened so hard it seemed he would rip it all out by its very roots. "I can't back down now!" he cried. "If I call off the battle now, there will be a revolt!"

Izayoi took a deep breath. "If I asked, would you _want_ to change your mind?" she asked carefully. Everything hinged on his answer to that question. She prayed devoutly.

Ryuunomei paced back and forth across the small room for nearly a quarter of an hour, face contorted with indecision.

She merely waited and gazed at the walls, taking what comfort she could from their bright and childish shade. She saw a younger Ryuunomei in their shadows, a dragon prince untainted by expectation or judgement. She saw brilliant white teeth bared in a mischievous smile, and a gleeful romp through the austere corridors of the palace. Izayoi saw the truth of him, and prayed that he saw it too.

It was a slice of forever, her waiting and him pacing. Patience was all she had.

"If I say yes, will you force me to act on it?" he asked at last, his very bones bent and contracted into the center of his body. He looked like a pinched and tormented wraith from old folk fables, so pale that she was sure if she looked close enough she could look right through his sagging skin.

"No," she answered truthfully. "I will not 'force' you to do anything. Whatever you finally choose to do will be by your own choice, dictated by your own conscience."

Ryuunomei clutched his chest, digging his fingers into the white silk until it seemed he would puncture his flesh with his ragged claws. "Yes," he said with an air of tragic finality. "If you asked me-- and I had a choice-- I would put aside my feud... at least for the length of your life and that of your son's. However, I _don't_ have a choice. If I am to keep my kingdom unified, I have to give them the war I promised them."

Izayoi suddenly found that despite her joy at his words, she could not tear her gaze from the flowing patterns of the wall's colour. She stared into the ripples of colour and felt a familiar lilac-misted trance come over her. A moment later, it was over, but it was already far too late.

"No!" she cried, heartsick but helpless to do anything to stop what she had seen. Izayoi threw herself across the expanse of air between them, and felt the impact with her very soul. She kissed him frantically and caressed his bewildered face, trying to memorize the angles of his bones and the precise shade of his green eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

The door exploded.

_Ryuukossei has his brother's eyes _was the first and only thing Izayoi could think of when the dust cleared.

"So, you would rather let your lifelong enemy be... rather than take action and eradicate him, would you?" Ryuukossei gritted furiously. His braids snapped around his head like living serpents and his eyes glowed with the force of his anger.

"This is my business," Ryuunomei snapped. "You have no business here. Please leave."

Ryuukossei sneered and drew the wicked-looking sword at his hip. "I think not. I've seen the way you've weakened in the past few years, and I know it's because of this woman. You're pathetic, _nii-sama_. You're not fit to rule, and you haven't been for some time now. I am not the only one to have noticed-- I now act on behalf of the warriors who fight for you. If it were only myself, I would have let you live. They, however, demand your blood and my takeover."

Izayoi fell into a the far corner and sobbed, pressing her face and fingers and body and soul into the shade of blue that was his real self. Ryuukossei hardly even seemed to see her.

_Strength! Someone, please, lend me strength to save him! _she begged, but there was no strength forthcoming within her. It was fate that determined he should die here, and no matter how she pleaded and strove, it would not change.

At the very end, he had chosen rightly... and so he would be rewarded a death that spared him the sight of all he loved dying before his eyes.

"Why can't you accept the wisdom of the future I see?" Ryuunomei asked with his hands opened in front of him in a gesture of peace. "Blood is not needed to ensure happiness. Can't you just..."

"No, I can _not_," Ryuukotususei interrupted angrily. "The East needs a leader who isn't divided in his loyalty, who will not hesitate to conquer. That leader, as you've shown me beyond a shadow of a doubt now, is not you. I am capable of the job, and as your heir I will take good care of this land once you are dead. Your subjects will not allow anything else, so just give up now."

Izayoi picked herself up, still sobbing wildly, and dashed across the floor to stand between Ryuunomei and his murderous brother with her arms flung wide. Her eyes narrowed to slits and power swirled around her like an invisible mist. "Touch him and die," she gasped, only half aware of how dangerous her actions were.

"Iza-chan!" Ryuunomei cried. "Get out of the way, idiot woman! He'll kill you! Think of your child, you fool."

He was right, she realized. A choice between a man she loved and her child was no choice at all, for the man could try to protect himself while her child would have no chance. However, it still tore her apart to step aside and let what would be, be.

Ryuunomei heaved a sigh of relief once she was out of the way. "If you want to challenge my authority, you must do it honestly. I declare a duel. The winner will rule, and the loser will be stripped of power and banished, if he should survive."

"Accepted," Ryuukossei said tersely with a sick smile. "Lead the way, _nii-sama._"

XxxxxX

A space had been cleared for them in the central courtyard, a bare circle of earth. The expectation of blood lay heavy over the gathered spectators. Izayoi had a place of honour at the edge of the space, but she was sworn not to enter it until the duel was done.

The chill autumn wind hissed through the tiles of the rooftops, carrying a message of coming snow in its clean bite. It was a blade wind, and sang with the swords of the combatants within it.

Izayoi's ragged black banner of hair blew in it like a death flag. She knew what was coming but was helpless to stop it. So she memorized the motions of Ryuunomei's sword and the slant of his summer-green eyes. It was autumn and the leaves were turning colour. Summer-green no longer had a place. Izayoi silently swore to remember the exact shade of those eyes come dead of winter.

There was green and violet fire mixed in with the flashing of their swords– demon lords would not restrain themselves to a battle of pure steel. Magic had to have a place in battle, or what was the point of having it? Izayoi understood how they thought, but it still hurt to see flesh singed and blackened by the harsh touch of supernatural flames.

She clasped her hands before her so tightly she could feel the small bones in her fingers grind together.

Ryuunomei ducked a heavy swing of Ryuukossei's sword and lashed out nimbly with his thinner blade. A line of red appeared across Ryuukossei's upper thigh, and the younger dragon hissed furiously. His eyes had turned virulently green and strong black triangular marks crept across his forehead from his hairline and up his cheeks from his chin.

In a flash, Izayoi understood what was about to happen. "Run!" she cried, whirling about in a flurry of forest-green silk and pushing the soldiers directly behind her as hard as she could. "He's going to transform. Run!"

The soldiers got the hint immediately, their eyes widening. They turned tail and bolted. Izayoi raced after them a little more slowly, disadvantaged by her human blood.

Behind them, the air exploded into an invisible wave that knocked the fleeing figures over. A flood of dust churned over their heads before the battle wind caught it and lifted it high into the sky.

Izayoi knew from memory what she would see when she picked herself up and turned around, but the impact was not lessened at all by expectation. The brothers loomed over her and soldiers, massive violent serpents with blazing green eyes and iron horns sweeping back off their foreheads. Ryuunomei was slimmer and sleeker, but the spikes stabbing from the back of his skull belied any notion of weakness. Ryuukossei was bulkier but slower.

"Oh, goddess," Izayoi gasped, eyes enormous.

The splintered remains of the castle shifted under their scaly bellies. Izayoi felt bright tears sting her eyes for the people who had not escaped before the transformation, and made another vow silently to herself.

_He will pay for this. This was not necessary._

Realizing suddenly that she was still easily within battle range of the now much-larger brothers, she turned and ran as fast as she could to the edge of the forest near the castle. When she arrived, she was terribly winded and her back ached abominably, but she felt reasonably assured that the effects of the battle would not reach her there.

She could still see quite clearly. The wind cleared away any dust as fast as the fighters could churn it up, so her view of the battle was not impeded in the slightest.

The tall yellow grass between her and the battle was flattened nearly to the ground with the force of the wild wind. She found it hard to stand her ground and her hair pulled her head sideways until her neck ached from holding it straight, but she could not allow herself to turn aside.

_I must witness. _Izayoi half-wished the battle would go on forever. The battle's end would mean death for someone, red blood drizzling out into the grass and thirsty earth.

No sooner had she thought it then the battle ended. Ryuukossei ducked his brother's half-hearted and weary swing, then returned the blow with all his strength. Ryuunomei was too tired to dodge, not being accustomed to battle. The edge of the blade gashed deeply across his chest, slipping between his massive ribs to cut into his soft innards.

Izayoi screamed, eyes widen open and fixed on the sight of Ryuunomei slowly toppling. She screamed until her throat tore itself ragged and her lungs ached, but could not move a muscle. The wind screamed with her, howling through the trees and slender grasses. It sounded almost sentient, as though it was overjoyed at the slaking of its bloodlust.

Izayoi out-screamed the wind.

"You next!" rasped the deep voice of the victor high above her.

She looked up to see Ryuukossei's great serpent belly looming over her, but could feel no fear over her horror.

"This is your fault," Ryuukossei raged. "I would never have had to kill him if you hadn't weakened him so much!" Massive tears trailed down his craggy face. "Your fault! Die, you _whore!_"

Ryuukossei's vast mouth descended down towards her. His teeth were as long as she was tall and glistened with saliva. They were so white they nearly blinded her to the dark cavern beyond them– something she was obscurely grateful for.

There was no escape. No matter how fast she ran, he was simply too large. He would catch her before she took two steps. Izayoi stared up into the black tunnel and wondered if she would really die this time. Her eyes were frozen open.

_Inutaisho, you can beat me up for this all you want when you come join me in the afterlife,_ she thought wryly. _Hold the door open for me, will you, Mai?_

Izayoi felt the demon woman's bright silver presence moments before Ryuukossei's teeth reached her, and her eyes widened.

_Do not give up yet. Be ready._

"Wha..." Izayoi started to say before a heavy comet impacted her chest and she was yanked off her feet into the air. The air burst from her lungs and for a moment the agony was too much to accept. She felt unconsciousness waver at the edges of her vision.

"Don't pass out," Ryuunomei's ragged voice said into her ear. "Please stay awake and hold on."

"You're dead," she murmured muzzily, but she managed to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist so that his legs would be free. His arms circled her tightly under her arms.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, "but very close. I'm going to take you back to your lover. Anything you can do to keep me moving until then would be much appreciated.

The full impact of the situation finally hit Izayoi as her head cleared. "Stop!" she cried, "you'll make your wounds worse! Set down so I can treat you!"

"Sorry, Iza-chan," he said wryly. "This is nothing you can fix. I'm dying at last. All I want is to keep going until I can get you to safety. Can you try and stanch the bleeding just for a little while?"

Hot tears poured from Izayoi's eyes. "Stop," she begged. "You might be wrong. Let me see."

"Shut up and do what you can!" he snapped, straining to go a little faster. The battle wind blew at their backs, speeding their passage through the air.

Sobbing, Izayoi called her power and tried her best to block the severed blood vessels with energy. It did not work very well since she'd had no training in healing arts, but it worked well enough to keep him in the air.

When she'd done everything she could, she pressed her face into the side of his neck and shook with grief. "I hadn't even asked yet," she said through her tears.

"You wanted to ask," he said quietly, "and that was enough for me. You were right all along, Iza-chan... Izayoi. I am too fond of blood by half. There will be consequences for me after I fall through the veil."

She could not deny it. He had been the cause of death for thousands of people, some of them through awful and painful means. He deserved punishment without doubt. Still...

Still, as they flew timelessly through the air, hair twining together and blood trailing them like crimson rain, she wished she could spare him that. He had chosen rightly in the end.

_You made the right decision at the very end, my love. Thank you._

XxxxxxX

They flew for perhaps an hour at a speed Izayoi had difficulty comprehending, until at last they reached the mountains.

She took a deep breath and inhaled Inutaisho's youki. Her eyes tightened. He wasn't supposed to be back from the encampment for several days yet. _Why is he home so early?_

They were still half-an-hour's flight out from the valley, but Inutaisho was flying to meet them.

Izayoi tightened her hold on Ryuunomei and tried desperately to preserve those last moments.

They were over all too soon– the dying dragon prince finally ran himself dry. They fell like autumn leaves, spiraling gracefully down into the waiting branches of the mountain forest. Izayoi shut her eyes, but the impact never came. They landed softly on a carpet of leaves and earth. For an instant, they were suspended weightlessly upright... then Ryuunomei collapsed and they hit the ground in a tangled heap of limbs.

Izayoi struggled her way out from under Ryuunomei's weight and pulled his head onto her lap. "Ryuunomei-sama?" she asked tentatively.

"Still here," he whispered with effort. The entire front of his once-white clothing was now blackish-red with drying blood, streaked here and there with the vibrant red of fresh blood.

Izayoi smoothed the hair off his forehead and struggled to breathe through a throat that seemed set on closing on her. "You foolish, brave man," she murmured. Her sight wavered with new tears.

"Stop crying," he ordered weakly. "I told you, I no longer want to see you cry. I have left that bloodthirsty self far behind."

"Can't help it," she choked, compulsively stroking his face.

"I have amends to make on the other side," he said. "Once I have made them, you may grieve for me. Not before then. How many people died because of that shield I made my brother put up? Thousands, I know. Until I have apologized to each of them and been forgiven, you are not permitted to shed tears for me."

Izayoi shook her head. Her hair fell to curtain about her lap and the dragon's head. "I refuse. I will grieve for you as much as I like. You can't stop me."

Ryuunomei chuckled and raised one hand to stroke the side of her face. His green eyes were gentle and peaceful as she had never seen them before, devoid of fear or insecurity or twistedness. "I always loved you, you know," he told her with a regretful smile. "Sorry I couldn't figure out how to tell you the normal way."

"I forgave you for that long ago," she said honestly, heart torn open with love. "I loved you too, and will keep loving you. I know what's on the other side. Wait for me there, all right?"

Ryuunomei coughed and spattered his chin with blood. "It's a promise," he gasped, "but don't be in any hurry to catch up, all right?"

"Promise," she whispered, and leaned over to kiss his reddened lips.

His last breath sighed out into her, and then he was still. She curled around his head and let herself weep with great racking sobs while his blood cooled on her lips.

XxxxxxX

That was how Inutaisho found her– blood-spattered and tear-reddened, clutching the stiff corpse of his greatest foe.

The raging anger that had been building since Myouga's frantic message (_she's gone, my lord, and her trail leads East)_ sputtered and died in the face of her grief. He was not heartless, and despite her tendency to do stupid things like this, he truly loved his human warrior-princess.

"Izayoi," he said bluntly, unsure of how to proceed. The ravenous worry that had been chewing at his gut eased once he saw that she was relatively unharmed.

_But what was she doing? _he wondered. _She did not really return to him, did she?_

"I'm sorry," she blurted without looking up. "I know you must be angry, but she told me this was what I had to do. Even if you chose to turn away, the aggression wouldn't stop unless he made it stop. I _had_ to go, I _had_ to!"

She was clearly incoherent with grief. Though he still could not make sense of his enemy's presence with her, he decided to deal with the living first and with his deep disappointment at not being the one to finally end Ryuunomei's life later.

He pulled off his haori, this one deep purple, and draped it over her shaking form. Carefully he extricated her from the mess that was Ryuunomei's body and scooped her up into his arms.

"I will return for you... _old friend_," he promised the pale face pillowed on the leaves.

The dragon's blood was already soaking into the earth.

**XoxoxoxoxoX**

**A/N: **TT I hate killing off characters.

Thanks for reading!


	30. Smoke Signals

**A/N: **Rumours of my death have been greatly exaggerated. Sorry for the ridiculously long hiatus on this story, but it's moving again now and I hope to finish the last few chapters in a much more regular fashion. Thank you for your patience, those of you who stuck with me.

As a reward, this chapter is a little smutty. XD

Eia

**xoxoxoxox**

_**Chapter XXX: Smoke Signals**_

**xoxoxoxox**

They burned the body, at Izayoi's insistence.

He would not have wanted to rot beneath the heavy, damp ground, worms making castles of his skull and ribs. He would have wanted a celebration of flames. So... that was what she gave him, because she had loved him.

The night was blazing with bonfires and the tense, hot-edged feeling in the air of having won an unexpected victory. Had the stars possessed eyes, they would have been blinded by the rising grey-hot pillars of smoke; and if they had lungs, they would have choked. The valley was a strange place that night, a misty, stinging place full of strange shadowy apparitions skirting the corners of vision. On nights when death was celebrated, the dead were a little closer to the world of the living, and so it was this night.

This passing was celebrated with sake and song, mostly because he was gone and could not plague them any more. Izayoi understood that. Ryuunomei had been their enemy for good reason. She could not ask them to forgive him as she had.

Even so, at the fire she sat around with her beloved companions, the celebration had somehow turned to one of what he had accomplished during his rule. A land united and prosperous, a people fat and happy, a battle well fought. It had been easy to overlook that because as a person he was not well-loved, but there was more to being a good ruler than being likeable.

Sakenmaru understood, and raised his flagon in a rueful toast.

Katsuro understood somewhat. His smile was full of secret mirth and quiet respect.

Naruka did not really understand much, but she understood that Izayoi had loved him and so she respected that.

Inutaisho did not understand at all.

Izayoi gripped her wooden teacup tightly enough to drive splinters into her fingers. She wanted to find him and beg forgiveness. She refused to do so, because doing so would give the impression that she regretted her decision when she absolutely did not. The alternative had been his death as well as her own, and her child's. It had been unacceptable, and what she had done had been the only way to avoid it. She _refused_ to apologize for that.

So, he kept watch as best he could through the smoke and did not speak to her. His fury was palpable.

The splinters in her hands began to bleed and sting. She welcomed the pain, because it distracted her from the impulse to go find Inutaisho and beg him to forgive her. When she put her fingers in her mouth and tasted blood, it cleared her mind a bit, so she kept them there and ignored her companion's worried inquiries. Yes, she was grieving for Ryuunomei and in great pain because of it. Yes, Inutaisho's reaction hurt as well, and his continued silence made her want to cry. Yes, the last stages of pregnancy were taking their toll on her body, so she was tired.

Those were natural. She would just have to deal with them in her own time and in her own way.

She was fine. The baby was fine. She wished everyone would just stop worrying about her as though she were some sort of china doll, pretty but easy to shatter. There was iron in her bones.

The night spiraled into the eerie blue hours before morning came in earnest, and the fires collapsed upon themselves into smoldering, sullen heaps of coals. The vast majority of the warriors were fast asleep, curled up next to the heat and light as though it would protect them from the things that came in the night.

Izayoi sat sleepless, staring into the wavering orange-red haze and wishing there had been another way to avert the vision she'd seen. This was too painful.

Her friends arrayed themselves around her, sleeping soundly and easily beneath the pale haze. She loved them for trying to understand, though they had every reason not to. It still was not really enough.

If she were honest with herself, she just wanted Ryuunomei back. There had not been enough time to thank him properly for his last decision. There had not been enough time _period_, for anything she wanted to do or say. She felt cheated.

Cheated, but at least she no longer felt torn.

With Ryuunomei gone, there was only one person left to love, and so she was free to love him fully without the dividing force of her past getting in the way. Unfortunately, the end of Ryuunomei had also very possibly brought about the end of her other love as well, which she hadn't foreseen.

Inutaisho would not talk to her. He would not even look at her. It was as though he had decided that she was not worth his time and effort after all and given up. She was only human, after all... it would not be surprising to another demon.

Izayoi's chest constricted painfully thinking about it. She carried his child in her belly-- _their _child. He could not turn from her so easily... could he?

The first pale hints of dawn bleached the horizon. Day was coming, but she was not sure she could face his silence for another day without breaking. She would not apologize... but neither could she bear this stalemate. Something had to be done. He was far too practiced at holding a grudge-- he would never approach her. It was up to her to make change, if there was any possible change to make.

The light of the fire faded as that of morning overtook it slowly. It was still dark, but the fire did not seem to burn quite as brightly anymore without the swallowing darkness to backdrop it.

Izayoi unclenched her bleeding hands-- somehow, the feel of her nails digging into her palm was almost a comforting distraction, so she'd forgotten to ease up-- and stood up. No one noticed.

She was like a wraith, striding through the campsite in her white mourning robes with her hair trailing sadly behind her. Her skin was deathly pale. Had any of the curled sleeping bodies woken to see her as she passed among their midst, they might easily have thought her a ghost. Such was the sadness in her eyes.

He was on a hilltop when she found him, cross-legged in the cold dirt and staring with an iron gaze out across the glittering patchwork of dying bonfires. There was no gentleness in his eyes, only cold steadfastness and a gleam of triumph hidden deep. He looked like the demon he was. He looked forbidding.

Izayoi was not a coward.

She was many things, but that was not one of them. So, after a deep breath, she crossed the last little space between them and knelt next to him on the chilled grass.

"I won't apologize," she told him, and was proud of how little her voice shook as she said it. "I did the right thing, even if you don't understand that. There was never any true danger to the child... or to me, if that even matters to you anymore. I would have foreseen it." There was no accusation in her voice-- only sadness, and resignation. She was not a coward, and she was not stupid either. Accusations would do nothing anyway, so there was no reason to anger him.

He continued to say nothing, staring resolutely into the grey smoke as though she were not even there.

That was fine. She had almost expected it. "If you are angry, I understand. I still won't apologize. My honour won't allow me to. However, I can't stand this silence. What can I do to make you speak to me again?"

Inutaisho was silent, but it was an active silence now. He was listening.

"It may mean nothing to say this now, but I do love you. I chose you. My going to Ryuunomei was in order to save your life, not because I wanted to be with him. Yes, I loved him. I can't and won't deny that. However, that is not why I went. I wish I could make you understand that. I wish I could show you the vision I saw, most of all. Maybe then you'd understand why I had to go even though I knew you wouldn't understand." Her fingers were leaving small red marks on her white robes like red teardrops. She hardly noticed. The pain in her chest was far greater than the one in her skin.

Still no reaction.

The limit was reached. She tightened her mouth and balled her fists. "Damn it, Inutaisho, I know I made you angry, but you're acting like a child. At least try to talk about this like an adult. You're older than I can even wrap my head around, haven't you learned yet that sulking solves nothing?"

A blurred moment later, there was a hand around her throat squeezing painfully and ferocious golden eyes waging war on her own startled black ones.

"You have only known him for a paltry handful of years," he snarled, blazing with fury. "I have known him for _millennia_, and hated him for all but a few decades of that. It was not your place to act. You should have stayed in the castle I made to protect you and let me deal with the situation. Your ego has no place in this war, Izayoi, and you should have recognized--"

She reached up and made him loosen his hands under she could breathe, then cut him off, unable to take another word. "I saved your _life, _Inutaisho! If I hadn't gone, you would have died in the battle, and so would I! As well as your child! I did what I had to. Don't start throwing your age at me either-- you may have known him for thousands of years, but have you ever shared a bed with him? Have you ever seen him dreaming, deep in sleep? Have you ever seen him smile because of something you said or did? Has he ever _loved _you?" She was weeping now, again, unable to contain her hurt and anger. The strange air of the boundary between night and morning seemed to make it all right to say what she really meant, as though this were only a dream world and everything would be all right when she woke up. "_No!_ You may have known him longer, but you can't claim to have known him as _well _as I did. You talk about protecting me, but you didn't even really know what you were protecting me _from._"

Inutaisho stared at her, still furious. However, his eyes now held a measure of uncertainty. "I did not have to share a bed with him to know that he was dangerous, you fool woman. Why can you not simply trust me to take care of you? Why can you not trust me at all? You have told me yourself that visions are not certain-- they can be changed, avoided. What is to say that I would not have done something to change the future you saw, that a later vision would not have shown a better future? You rely too much on your smoke-and-mirror tricks, Izayoi. Rely on me instead."

Izayoi gaped. "It was such a strong vision," she whispered. "It would have taken something big to alter the outcome. I saw no other way. I do trust you, but this situation required more than just that. I had to push the path of the future away from what I saw, and that was the only way that presented itself. I should ask you the same question-- why can't you trust me a little more? I would never betray you, not ever!"

He returned to staring out over the valley, eyes unreadable. His hands, however, were clenched in his lap so tightly she wondered if his bones were cracking.

_Progress_.

"Even if I don't care what happens to me, I am carrying our child. He is precious to me, more precious than I can even express to you. If I had thought he would be in any danger from my actions, I would not have moved from the castle no matter what. I knew he would be safe. I knew _I _would be safe. All that remained was to make sure that _you_ would be safe, so that was what I did. Because-- please listen, Inutaisho-- because I love you too much to watch you die on the battlefield when I have a chance of preventing it. If the same choice faced me now, I would make it again exactly the same way. I won't back down and apologize... even... even if it means that you won't talk to me. I can't apologize, not for that."

Inutaisho closed his eyes. "You say there was no danger, but I find that difficult to believe. What about Ryuukotsusei? Even if his brother loved you too much to harm you, he had no such compunctions. You could have easily died in the battle between them, along with my-- _our_-- son. Your visions are useful things, I will not deny that, but you rely on them too much. Life is much more unpredictable than you give it credit for."

Izayoi turned her face to the brightening East and refused to let herself cry. "I know that," she whispered. "It was still the right thing to do. Won't you forgive me? This silence hurts too much."

His head moved in a slow, jerky motion that was halfway between a nod and shake. The light caught in his hair. "I am honestly not certain that I can. I have hated him for too long to understand how you could love him, or to be easy with you trusting him over me. Izayoi..." His voice caught in his throat, and he turned his head so that she could not see his face.

Her chest hurt. "Inutaisho, _please_. Even if you can't understand..." She trailed off, understanding suddenly that she could talk until she ran out of breaths but he would still not understand, not really. Speaking was therefore pointless. "Listen," she whispered, without expecting him to even hear her.

Then she turned towards him, grass rubbing and staining her robes with green to accent the red of her blood, and laid her head on his shoulder. Her right hand wound around his neck and threaded into the hair above his ear, a silent caress than said more than her voice ever could.

He radiated heat, as usual, a harsh contrast to the chill of her clammy skin.

Morning was coming. She did not want it to come with the conflict between them still intact. The day would be too stark to bear.

There was a long period of silence with nothing but her arm around him and his silence to fill the moments. Then he took a deep breath in and let it out. Not a word, but she could feel the tension trickle out of his shoulders and dissolve into nothing.

"I was so frightened," he admitted quietly without looking at her. "When I heard that you had gone, I knew immediately where you had gone to, and I was afraid. All I have ever wished is for you to be safe. I was angry because you had deliberately put yourself in harm's way for my sake, even though it was _your _safety I was concerned with. I am... not accustomed to being disobeyed."

"Get used to it," she laughed breathlessly, tears wavering in her eyes. "I have authority issues."

"So I have noticed," he replied dryly, and just like that the tight cord of tension between them relaxed and became an easy bond once more.

Izayoi lifted her head from his shoulder to press her lips to his dew-dampened cheek. "If you are angry with me, please tell me," she murmured into his ear. "I can't do anything to make it better if you won't let me."

Bracing himself with his right hand, he turned to meet her head-on and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then, with a small certain smile, he closed it and kissed her instead, welcoming her back into himself with the gentle, forgiving press of his lips.

Sighing with relief, Izayoi kissed him back, winding her other arm around his neck to pull herself closer. He was so warm. It was like kissing a white-golden ember, almost too hot to bear.

"I promise not to leave again," she whispered into the small space between his lips. "Promise me you won't either."

"I have never left you," he replied, puzzled.

She shook her head, closing her eyes for a moment. "Yes, you have," she told him, "just now. Since you brought me back, you've been gone even though your body was here."

Though she could not see, she knew he was rolling his eyes. That was fine. It was still true, and she knew he understood even if his ego would not let him acknowledge it directly.

"I promise," he said affectionately, then rolled over so that he was pressing her into the grass with his full weight. "Just let me finish this battle and I will never leave you alone again. Be patient."

"Call me by name," she whispered, compelled by some desire deep within herself. "Please."

He smiled above her, almost indiscernible through the shadows of his hair.

"_Please._"

There were gentle angled lips on her own, conveying the depth of feeling behind them with admirable effectiveness. Then they pulled away, but only for a moment. "Izayoi," he said clearly, sweetly. "My foolish love." The lips returned.

Trapped between the cold earth and his almost painfully warm body, Izayoi shut her eyes and gave in. The anger was gone. He probably still did not understand why she had decided as she had, but he had now accepted that she would not change her mind on the matter and come to terms with his own reaction to her choices. It was not completely all right, but they were functional again and that made her too happy to speak.

Her hands scrunched his clothing between them, pressing into his back and pulling him closer, closer, closer. She wanted to swallow him, bring all of him inside of her until there was no separation at all. That was what love meant to her.

The sky brightened above them, turning a sweet shade of crystal blue at the edges while remaining deeper, silent shade in the center.

Izayoi pushed, pulled and eventually tore his layers of soot-grey clothing out of the way, sliding her fingers and lips across every new small expanse of skin she discovered. There was salt on his cloud-pale skin. It lingered on her tongue.

Her clothing fell away with hardly a whisper of protest, coaxed away by the gentle coercions of his fingertips. It had been long since the last time he had made love to her, but there had been no forgetting for her. Every motion was familiar and wonderful to her.

Lying in a puddle of stained white silk, she splayed herself open in invitation, a small smile sweeping across her lips. This was all she wanted, all she had ever wanted-- a hand on her back carelessly traversing each hillock of her spine, a warm wet mouth tasting her throat, another hand pressing hard between her legs and making her writhe. Hands and lips which loved her.

She ran her fingernails down his spine, feeling with joyful wonder the way he arched under her touch, eyes fluttering shut and breath coming in abbreviated gasps.

Her nipples brushed against his and they both sucked in startled breaths, then moved the same way again, enjoying the sensation without reservation. It was a cold morning, which only added to the painful sensitivity.

Izayoi dragged her heels up the back of Inutaisho's thighs, delighting in the shudder that rippled through him, until they rested against his lower back in mute invitation.

He took her up on it, thrusting into her as far as he could.

She moaned, letting her eyes flutter shut and digging her nails into the firm skin of his back in a silent plea.

Inutaisho answered.

The earth was not soft enough to make it entirely comfortable, but she paid no mind, paying attention instead to the slow coiling heat between her legs and the swift currents of pleasure each thrust brought her.

All she could think was that he was going too slowly, being too gentle. Pulling herself up with her fingernails against his spine, she sank her teeth into the straining flesh of his neck. A small thread of blood curled into her mouth, salty and hot. She'd broken the skin. Instead of feeling remorseful, she closed her lips around the wound and began to draw more blood out, drawing it to the surface until she was sure his skin would be stained for weeks. The metallic taste on her tongue only served to heat her further.

It seemed to do the same for him, for the harder she sucked on his injured throat, the harder and faster he slammed into her, claws digging into her back and teeth threatening her own throat.

Izayoi only tilted her head to allow him better access, willing to suffer that pain if it meant coming but an inch closer to completion.

Unable to resist, Inutaisho first pressed a kiss to her throat, then bit her ferociously until the blood flowed freely. It hurt, but in a way that lanced straight to her groin and made her arch powerfully upwards into him.

His hair, wild and silver-white like frozen streams of soft water, draped about her face and shoulders until that and his face were all she could see. The cool tickle of silk on her skin made her shiver silently and curve upwards until she could meet him, sliding her tongue between his surprised lips and tasting the hot essence there. It did not taste like anything particularly remarkable, just his own unique taste mingled with her own... but that was remarkable in and of itself.

The unbearable tightness in her loins intensified beyond the point where she could stand it. There were sounds escaping her mouth, but she was hardly even aware of them.

Inutaisho blocked out the air and the wind and the grass and the rising sun until all she could see or feel or hear was him, giving in to his desire for her that had somehow survived his anger.

She was glad. She wanted more.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, dragging him into her although there was really no more of him she could take in. Her belly, rounded and protruding, held him away from her so that this was as close as they could possibly come. It was simultaneously close enough and not nearly enough at all.

Regardless of who might hear below, Izayoi begged for release, unable to deal with the screaming pressure at her center.

He waited a few moments, perhaps out of pride, before granting it to her by transferring his weight to one hand and using the other to caress the lotus bud of flesh just above his thrusting manhood.

Izayoi screamed, then wept into his shoulder, shuddering with layers upon layers of collapsing pleasure. The shimmering fluids that flowed from her sank slowly into the soil.

He made no sound when he went stiff against her, crushing her into the dirt and spasming against her. Her skin, however, would bear silent testimony to his climax, as he created new wounds all over her throat and shoulders helplessly as his climax faded slowly into fulfillment.

It was many long minutes before either of them could gather up the presence of mind to find their clothes and put them back on in some semblance of order.

In the meantime, they lay in each other's arms and listened to their breathing and heartbeats as they slowly came into easy synchronization.

The pain of tension and anger had gone completely. Only understanding and love were left between them, and a touch of ruefulness over how foolish they had been.

A blaze of light tore over the edge of the horizon, streaking the sky with rose and amethyst and silver-grey. Morning had come.

Izayoi smiled. "Trust me," she murmured into his jaw. His hearbeat thudded steadily under her cheek, resonating through her head.

"If you will trust me," he replied softly after a moment, tightening his hand around her shoulder.

She nodded, knowing he would feel it. "All right," she said, and it was a sort of promise.

"Good," he said wryly, tilting his head to lay against hers. "I am terrible at compromise, as I am sure you have noticed."

"I had noticed. I happen to be terrible at obedience and doing what's expected of me. I'll forgive you if you'll forgive me."

His lips pressed to her temple gently, holding there for a long moment before pulling away. "All right. Have it your way."

The sun clawed its way higher into the sky, pushing away the night star by star.

The darkness retreated sullenly in the face of the new, stronger daylight.

**XxxxxxxxxxxxxxX**

**A/N: **I hope that made up for the long wait at least a little.

Thanks again, everyone!

Love,

Eia


	31. Shatter

**A/N: **Welcome back, everyone. I do apologize for making you wait this long... life and my muses both seemed to have other ideas whenever I thought about working on this. Either I had no time or no inspiration, and both together conspired to delay me for an entire year (as you may have noticed). I hope you can forgive me.

The next couple of chapters are nearly done, and should follow quickly. From there it's only a few more to the end of the story. Bear with me just a little longer, dear readers.

-Eia

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXXI: Shatter**_

**xxxxx**

_No battle plan survives contact with the enemy._

_-Colin Powell_

Izayoi woke with a shriek, clawing her way through the darkness towards the ceiling.

It was not yet morning, but the air had a quality of expectancy to it that said it was not far off. She staggered to the window and threw it open, sucking in great breaths of the harsh pre-dawn wind. The air bit at her. It was not yet winter, and yet she could taste snow on it.

A knock on her door, tentative and concerned. Takemaru. "My lady?"

"I'm fine," she replied, managing to keep her voice somewhat level. "Go back to sleep."

"Call if you need anything," he said, sounding unsure but for once too groggy to be disobedient.

Izayoi dug her fingernails into the sill of the window and stared sightlessly out at the autumn-withered expanse of trees and grass beyond the castle, made barely visible by the ambient grey glow of dawn.

"Mai," she whispered. Her tears fell unnoticed onto the ground outside and froze almost immediately. "Please keep him safe."

It would snow today.

xxxx

There was something wrong with the mist.

Sakenmaru and Katsuro came up to stand beside Inutaisho, staring into the drifting grey-silver banks with worried eyes.

It did not _appear_ to have anything wrong with it. It moved with the wind, thinned and thickened as ordinary fog would, and was not unusual with this cold, humid weather. The sun had not yet risen, so its continuing presence was not to be unexpected. There was no feel of magic about it. Naruka had confirmed this. It was entirely natural. And yet, it made their hackles rise as though they were being watched.

"Rouse the men," Inutaisho said softly. "Do not raise the alarm just yet, but caution them to be on their guard and keep their weapons at hand."

"My lord," said Katsuro, face shadowed with hair he had not yet had time to shave off. His ever-present bandanna held his uncombed hair away from his face. For once, he was not smiling. He was a general. The taste of war on the morning air was familiar to him as the hilt of his sword, and there was no place for humour in its presence.

Inutaisho took a moment to regard him, meeting his eyes searchingly. This was the man who had been at his left hand for a year, and whom had never let him down even once. This was a human man-- only the third human he had ever trusted with his life, after Naruka and Izayoi. Katsuro had trained his army, sweated and bled alongside them for months without praise or payment, and had never asked for anything but faith. Inutaisho put a hand on his shoulder, a wealth of meaning behind the gesture, and knew Katsuro understood.

His general bowed and left to do as asked.

Sakenmaru put a hand on Inutaisho's shoulder. "Well, old friend?" he asked quietly. "What are you thinking?"

"It is going to snow today," Inutaisho said by way of answer, which wasn't really an answer at all. The wind was picking up, and his hair flagged out behind him until it was nearly indistinguishable with the mist.

"Yes, most likely," Sakenmaru agreed, "but I'll wager you're thinking a sight more than just that."

Inutaisho did not answer, and the conversation lapsed into silence for several minutes.

The fog grew lighter as the sun began to rise behind it.

"Do you think they're ready?" asked Sakenmaru at last. "I think we may have been too lax in preparing them for the eventuality of battle. Their skills are good enough, but I think sometimes... in their hearts they never really expected to actually have to fight. We were lax in preparing them for the reality of what--"

Sudddenly, the skin of their arms rippled into stiff gooseflesh and the wind grew urgent. There was a strange resonance to the air that any seasoned soldier could have recognized-- the song of battle.

"Regardless of that, it is too late now," said Inutaisho before Sakenmaru could continue. Quickly but without seeming to hurry, he untied a leather thong from around his wrist and bound his hair back into a streaming tail of steely silver, and thrust two polished wooden sticks into it to hold it in place. "It seems they grew tired of waiting for us to come to them, and came to us instead."

Naruka's barrier had never been meant to hold even this long. Inutaisho had been expecting this for weeks already.

Katsuro returned, his hand already gripping the hilt of his sword with unconscious anticipation. "Orders?"

Inutaisho scanned the fog as he spoke, not looking at his general. "Split them into three groups, two large and one small. Range the two large ones up the sides of the valley mouth and have Naruka hide them. Line up the smaller one on the valley floor in such a way that from below they will look like more than they are. Instruct them to scatter for the sides when I signal. Ask Naruka to activate what she prepared as soon as all warriors are out of the camp and into position."

"Understood," said Katsuro, bowing and turning to leave. Before he took more than two steps, however, he turned back to regard Inutaisho with a gaze no human should have been able to turn on him-- knowing, insightful, too sure of itself. "...Shall I send word to the princess?"

Inutaisho shook his head once, refusing to be knocked off balance. He resolutely banished the vision of Izayoi's face from his mind. "No. There is no need. She will already know."

"Of course," said Katsuro softly, still too knowing, then took off running in earnest.

"Will you retreat to higher ground?" Sakenmaru asked. Traditionally, the general would stand on a high point overlooking the battle and call out his commands from there, however...

Inutaisho was not very good at tradition. "No," he said, predictably. "No one else here can handle Ryuukotsusei. It would be a lost battle if I were not at the front lines holding him off."

"True enough," agreed Sakenmaru, grinning toothily. "All right then. You have your swords?"

Inutaisho touched the hilts-- Tetsusaiga at his left hip, Tenseiga at his right, Sou'unga on his back. He could hear the cowardly spirit of Sou'unga's sheath whispering to itself in alarm, but ignored it. "Yes. Sakenmaru, I have some favours to ask."

The lion tensed. The hand on his shoulder tightened slightly. "Am I going to like this?"

"No," said Inutaisho honestly, knowing Sakenmaru would hear the truth even if he tried to lie. "If, perchance, anything happens to me in battle--"

The hand gripped his shoulder convulsively with almost painful strength, and Sakenmaru growled under his breath.

"--there are some things that will need doing. I have already asked Katsuro and Naruka to make sure Izayoi is cared for, but there are some things only another youkai can do."

"Ask," said Sakenmaru simply. "If it is in my power, I will see it done."

"My swords," said Inutaisho immediately. "I have also asked Toutousai for his assistance in this, but in case he does not come in time... I wish to have the added security of knowing you also know my will. Sou'unga must be taken away and put somewhere where no one can reach it. I would ask you to destroy it, but I know you cannot. No one but its maker had the ability, and he is dead. Tenseiga I leave to Sesshoumaru."

"Sesshoumaru?" Sakenmaru broke in, surprised. "Are you certain? He will not want it."

"I have my reasons," said Inutaisho, and he did. Sesshoumaru had to learn temperance and compassion at some point, and Inutaisho would not necessarily be around to teach it. Tenseiga could teach it for him. Sesshoumaru would ihate/i it, and hate him for it, but Inutaisho respected his son enough not to spare him this lesson.

Sakenmaru read as much in his eyes and made a face. "Well, all right then, but remind me to be elsewhere when Sesshoumaru finds out. Where is he, anyway?"

Inutaisho hesitated. He had not seen his son for nearly a year, not since the first night he had spent with Izayoi. He knew his son had run, but not where, and did not have the heart to call him back when he so well understood what Sesshoumaru had to be thinking. It was best if he was far away from Izayoi until he came to terms with his anger about Inutaisho's supposed betrayal. "He is... where he needs to be," he said, settling for half of the truth. "Do not count him among our allies for this battle."

Sakenmaru sighed. "Very well, though his strength would be a great boon. And what would you like me to do with Tetsusaiga?"

"For my son who has yet to be born," Inutaisho said after a long pause in which he fought off thoughts of Izayoi again. "He will need to protect himself. Hanyou do not have easy lives." The thought of it made his chest ache. He knew what wounds and bruises his son would suffer before ever reaching maturity. He knew what scars he would carry all his life. Inutaisho wished there was better protection he could leave behind for his son's body, but there was none. He would have to trust in Izayoi to arm his heart.

"It is unkind of you, you realize, to even consider dying in this battle," Sakenmaru told him disapprovingly. "You burden your woman with a stone too great for her alone to carry, extraordinary though she is."

"No, she can carry it," Inutaisho corrected, faint pride in his voice, "she is stronger than even you give her credit for. I shall of course do my utmost not to die if at all possible."

Sakenmaru clapped him on the back. "Good. I will not be impressed if I have to drag you off the battlefield in pieces. It's an awful thing to do to a friend."

Inutaisho smiled at him, and Sakenmaru smiled back. There were long pages of words behind their smiles, memories stretching back through years uncountable. They had been friends for a long, long time. They trusted each other with more than simply their lives. They trusted each other with everything precious to them. There was no greater faith.

Katsuro ran up again, still impressively not out of breath. "Preparations are complete, my lord. Whenever you're ready."

The wind changed direction, carrying the heavy wet salt scent of the ocean up the valley from the shoreline some miles away. The sun slashed up the valley on its tail, turning the fog blazing white and blindingly opaque. Dawn had come... and with it, war.

"Stand back," Inutaisho instructed his friends.

When they did as asked, he took a deep breath and drew the Sword of Earth. Months and months of preparation and care had gone into making sure the moments after this one went their way, but battle is ever the most uncertain of things. He had no way to be certain that any of them would live through this, his own self included. However, he had no time for doubting himself or his warriors.

He trusted the people who stood beside him, and those who rallied behind them. There was nothing more he could do.

Inutaisho took three half-running steps forward, raised Tetsusaiga, and brought it raging down through the air with a yell. "Kaze no _kizu!_"

Light and fury erupted from his blade and scythed through the mist towards the mouth of the valley. The fog burned away in seconds, the remnants ghosting up the mountainsides where his men lay hidden.

Into the gap boiled an army of youkai such as none any of them had ever seen before. They were in the air, under the ground, a coiling and writhing mass of scales and slime and bruised colours through the space towards the place where Inutaisho stood.

"By heaven," murmured Sakenmaru behind him. "Ryuukotsusei has apparently never heard of restraint."

"He may have, but it is wise of him not to take any chances," said Katsuro with a wry smile, but his voice was strained.

They had not expected an easy battle, but neither had they expected this… horde. There were tens of thousands of them. It was nearly impossible to see past the solid wall of contorting demonic bodies at the valley mouth.

And before them all strode a tall man with deep violet hair braided back off his head and black armour. Those of them with keener sight could see that his eyes were very green.

"Leave him to me," said Inutaisho, and launched himself across the grass without a backwards glance, a lone figure flying through the last lingering shreds of morning mist.

With a roar, his armies followed his lead and came swooping down the mountainsides _behind_ the youkai horde, trapping it inside the valley and driving it relentlessly towards the encampment.

Battle was joined.

**XxxxxxxxxxX**

**A/N: **The beginning of the end.

I hate writing battles, which is a goodly part of the reason why this took me so long. Don't expect long dissemination on tactics and exection and we won't have any problems. :)

Stand by for more in a little while. Thanks again for reading.


	32. Iron

**A/N: **As promised, the next chapter.

If you've seen the fourth movie, you should start to recognize things fairly soon. I promised at the beginning of this fic that it would eventually line up to those eight minutes in the movie dealing with our hero and heroine. I intend to keep that promise.

If you catch anything which contradicts with canon (with the obvious exception of Sesshoumaru's mother being alive and not characterized as I have written her, and the other smaller ones like Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru's ages as we have mixed reports on those and I've already made clear which of them I'm choosing to believe). I'm fairly certain it should be error-free as I've watched those eight minutes literally dozens of times and taken _notes_, but I'm not infallible. :)

Thank you for reading. Enjoy the chapter.

-Eia

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXXII: Iron**_

**xxxxx**

_There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs._

_Dwight D. Eisenhower_

The first contraction came like a riptide, rolling and tearing its way down her body with unbelievable violence.

She cried out in shock and fell to the cold wooden floor, a puddle of birthing fluid slowly spreading around her. Her fingernails dug into her belly but she could not feel it. Her hair fell about her face and pooled on the boards, fluid seeping into it.

"My lady!" cried Takemaru, kneeling beside her and holding her shoulders. His hands were strong and warm. "What ails you?"

"My child is coming," she gasped, close to tears. "Too soon, too soon! There are still several weeks left before he should come. Why now?"

"I know nothing of this," Takemaru said, distressed. "I will call Kiyoko, she has some experience with midwifing."

"Please," said Izayoi.

The pain eased enough for her to laboriously push up from the floor and drag herself to her bed. She lay down without any real relief and waited with dread for the next contraction.

As she waited, she prayed—first that her child would be healthy despite its early birthing, and second that Inutaisho would win his war quickly and live to see his son be born.

Only one of those seemed at all likely.

xxxxx

The earth beneath each step was heavy and bogged with blood and trampled mud. The air stank of iron and death, enough to burn the nostrils. The wind fair crackled with mana, stinging the skin.

Inutaisho noticed none of it, his eyes focused with singular determination on the enemy standing before him. It should have been anti-climactic, facing the brother of his worst enemy in the last battle instead of the enemy himself... who was already dead, ashes mingled with Izayoi's tears.

It wasn't.

Ryuukotsusei hated him every bit as much as his brother ever had, and for stealing Ryuunomei's death from him Inutaisho hated him back with equal ferocity. The elder brother had been his enemy for a long time even by his reckoning of time, and someone who has been an enemy for that long is almost a friend. Inutaisho had known him better than almost anyone else in his life, and knew that the dragon had known him as well. Their battle had been predestined, a clash of fates both of them had seen coming for centuries and simultaneously looked forward to and dreaded.

The younger brother had, in his greed and shortsightedness, stolen that from both of them. Inutaisho would not forgive him for intruding on something which should not have involved him in the first place.

For the victory he should have had, Inutaisho would fight this battle instead.

They came at each other with calculated, wrathful intent, every blow of their swords carrying countless years of feeling behind them. Magic surged harshly down and through the steel, throwing courses of vibrant lightning out in all directions whenever they clashed. They were both snarling bestially though still in human form, far past the point where spoken insults could have any effect. This was hatred at its deepest, purest form-- wordless and intolerable. It would never leave either of them until the other was dead, and possibly not even then.

Around them was a wide circle of empty earth-- the soldiers and demons had learned quickly that to venture near the battling lords was to invite swift and painful death. They continued their own smaller death-matches as far away as they could.

It was impossible to tell who was winning. The demons had superior numbers, but the taiji-ya had superior training and were much better organized, smarter, and trusted each other. Each of the human hunters were taking dozens of youkai down with them. It was fairly evenly matched.

At the opposite end of the valley, unnoticed by the dueling lords, a brilliant lilac flower of energy blossomed silently, the great shockwave and thunder of sound following several seconds later. All the demons unfortunate enough to be within reach of its thin vicious petals appeared, horrifically, to explode into bloody pieces and shrivel to ash. Naruka had been pouring power into these traps of hers for months-- whenever a great enough concentration of youkai came near their buried nuclei, they erupted, terribly beautiful and far more lethal than anything else on the field excepting the daiyoukai. She stayed hidden in the hills, setting them off with a directed thought, a pair of daggers clenched in her white knuckles and a bow at her side.

Sakenmaru, staying as near his friend as he dared, battled three fairly powerful youkai at once, too old for it but too determined to simply die. He laughed as he fought, with sword and teeth and claws, ready for defeat should it come but fighting like the demon he was until then. He still had much to live for and planned with all his heart to do so.

Katsuro was laughing as well, genial and merry-hearted as if this were some sort of celebration. Battle was his home, what he was most familiar with. His sword fairly danced around him, and where it went the enemy died.

Battle was never beautiful, and this was no exception, but as battles went it had more than its fair share of glory... and of death.

xxxxx

Takemaru smiled to himself. He had smelled the battle wind, heard the faint echoing roar of voices. He knew what was transpiring in the valley two mountains over. The time had finally come to set his plans in motion.

Izayoi had been angry with him for finding his way to her side despite her efforts to keep him away, but even she had no true idea of how deep his plans for her ran. He would not simply stand by and watch the monster carry her off. Not ever again. She belonged to him. She had _always_ belonged to him and no evil filth would take her from him without a fight.

Unwittingly, the monster had given him the very means with which to defend her-- a fortress, and men enough to hold it against most anything. Many of the soldiers and servants sent to care for and protect her had already been loyal to him, and now that he had had so many months to weave his plot, almost all of the rest were as well. They had come to see the truth of his view of the demon lord-- and indeed, all demons-- and would fight to protect their beloved princess from him.

Good and reason would always triumph in the end, thought Takemaru, and let his smile spread.

After the battle, should he live, the demon would return here for his lover. Exhausted and hopefully wounded, he would be greatly weakened and open to Takemaru's attack. With the assistance of his converted soldiers, victory was certain.

"I will array the men at the gates," said Chaoju, Takemaru's chosen lieutenant. He was a burly man with a porcine face, thick shoulders, and thinning hair tied back in a thin topknot. His eyes were small and glittered with malice.

Takemaru nodded. "Do that. The mononoke will likely be back before nightfall. The time has almost arrived... ensure that no one will bar my way into her chambers when it comes. I will not be thwarted by some overzealous handmaiden with a kitchen knife. The filth must die, both he and his whelp which has so befouled my beloved princess. You understand."

"I do, Takemaru-sama. I will see it done." The lieutenant saluted, hand to chest, and walked away.

Nothing could go wrong. The end to his needless suffering was close at hand at long last.

xxxxx

Myouga stood frozen on the rafter overhead, so shocked he couldn't yet convince his traitorous limbs to move.

He had never liked Takemaru. His blood was sour and tasted of old resentments preserved too long. Now he knew why. The boy was a traitor, and half-mad besides. Myouga wasn't certain _exactly_ what he planned, but he had heard enough to know what he had to do.

He sped across the courtyard to the stables, taking care not to be seen by any sharp eyes, and found his way to Saeki's stall. The clever horse had found his way home after Izayoi's flight from the house of dragons, sensing the impending conflict early enough to escape with his life. He was not a youkai, but he was nearly as intelligent as one, and understood what Myouga asked of him.

They fled the castle from the back gate and raced through the woods at frightening speed towards the valley two mountains over.

Myouga could only pray he would arrive in time.

xxxxx

Inutaisho and Ryuukotsusei's battle had scaled the mountainside and plunged out of the valley down towards the sea. They stopped halfway there, on a great plain of grass, knowing it was not necessary to go any further.

Here, there was enough room.

With roars of joy and relief, they released their human forms and exploded into their true ones. A moment of mist and screaming wind later, there was a great white dog with a noble face standing on the grass facing an equally massive violet serpent. They were tall as cliffs and wide as rivers, and wherever they went the earth gave way to them.

Their swords had vanished within themselves with their clothing. They came at each other with nothing but their claws and teeth. It was as it had been in the beginning, a battle between great demon lords with little evidence of humanity between them. Scales and fur were torn, rent from skin, until blood flowed freely onto the earth at their feet. Theirs was a savage dance, graceful but pitiless, and there were no words, only such sounds as animals would make-- roars and howls and bellows of rage and pain.

The earth shattered and split beneath them in their fury. Inutaisho's claws and Ryuukotsusei's tail rent the ground until it broke apart into great canyons of stone and earth.

Even as they grew weary, their rage and pride kept them upright at each other's throat, ripping and tearing long past the threshold of coherent thought.

_You will pay_, said Ryuukotsusei's teeth as they flashed in the light of the dying sun. _For my brother, for my pride, you will pay._

_For stealing his death from me, I will make you bleed,_ Inutaisho roared wordlessly. _For Izayoi and what you both have done to her, you will die._

Drained nearly to his last breath, he threw himself at the dragon, his last living nemesis, and gave himself up to fate.

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru smelled the blood two hours before reaching the battlefield.

Perched on a crag high above the fighting, he gazed dispassionately down over the bitter conflict and reflected on the fact that he did not want to walk away.

He no longer wished to run, not really. These last months he had spent wandering, lost in thought, running from the truth of his father's fall into weakness, from the pervasive smell of Izayoi and everything she had ruined. No more. He had made his decision, and it was this: he loved his father, respected him still, but he was too weak to be allowed to rule.

Sesshoumaru would take the rule of the country out of his fallen hands and rule in honour of what he had once been.

Before, he had thought running and denial would let him live peacefully. He saw now what a folly that had been.

He would walk a different path to inner peace-- conquest. He would take his father's lands from his, his rulership, everything he could. His pride, if it became necessary. He would not suffer the only person in the world he yet cared for to spiral slowly and publically down into disgrace. Sesshoumaru would strip his father of everything he had before he would allow that.

He flexed his hands, feeling his claws flare to poisonous life, and leapt from the peak to plummet into battle at the side of his father's allies.

xxxxx

Katsuro fought his way across the battlefield to Naruka's side.

She sat exhausted in the mud, a pale and badly-wavering shield of magic her only protection. His step faltered upon seeing her, a moment of weakness which nearly got him killed. He stabbed the youkai aiming at his side with long, poisonously dripping claws before it could reach him, but it was a close thing. He hardly noticed. The relief he felt on seeing her alive and conscious was so powerful, it nearly took his legs out from under him.

He had tried so hard not to encourage her. He knew what her calling meant to her, and knew that the chance of her being truly happy with him was too slim for any real hope. He had tried to so hard to protect her from herself.

Her shield wavered on seeing him. He strode up to it, then through. It parted like fog to him and he knelt beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, tears spilling over her eyelids and down her grime-streaked cheeks, and knew he had failed. Even if it meant tearing her away from the priesthood she so loved, even if it meant years of unhappiness for both of them, he could not make himself let her go.

"Will you survive?" he cracked, joking in hopes of temporarily staving off the crushing fear for her safety threatening to swallow him.

"I... possibly," she replied in a whisper, giving him a sweet smile that made his chest ache. "Don't worry about me. I can keep the shield up for a while yet."

He snorted, fighting tears himself now. "That I doubt. Even if you could, you think I would rather be halfway across the field from you when we win?" He promised as many things with the tone of his voice as he possibly could, and hoped she would understand. He was finished running from her, in every applicable sense of the word.

Her smile said she understood perfectly. "All right then. Stand there like an idiot and defend my maidenly honour if it will make you feel better."

Katsuro grinned fiercely and turned back to face the remaining tatters of the demon horde. "I don't recall asking permission, priestess. I outrank you and I say this is where I'm going to stand."

"Far be it from me to order you around, _General_," she said placatingly, her smile out of sight now behind his back but still clearly audible in her voice. "Do as you wish."

"I plan to," he replied, and killed two youkai with the next swing of his sword. No one would get through him to her while he lived and breathed. Not after he'd finally realized what it was he wished to do after the sword no longer had a use for him. Not after he'd finally come to understand what she was to him.

The youkai came, and died, and Katsuro laughed with joy.

xxxxx

Saeki thundered over the last ridge, and Myouga beheld the battlefield.

It was an ugly sight, churned and trampled from its previous tranquil green into a red-brown sea of muck and death. The valley was dotted everywhere with the fallen corpses of both friend and foe. More foe than friend, but that said little as there had been fewer friends to begin with. He searched frantically for Inutaisho, but he was nowhere to be seen. Neither was the dragon.

Myouga found Sakenmaru to be the nearest ally to his current position, fighting on the very edge of the battle. Not fancying a jaunt across the war-torn field and the probable death such a sojourn entailed, Myouga had little difficulty deciding where to go next.

At his direction, Saeki slid down the near-sheer slope to land strides away from the bitterly embattled lion king. With the ease of long practise, Myouga timed his leap and landed neatly on Sakenmaru's shoulder. The nasty teeth and long swords flying around made him ill, but it couldn't be helped.

"Sakenmaru-sama! Sakenmaru-sama!" he yelled.

"Myouga?" gasped the lion, clearly half-dead of exhaustion. "What are you doing here, you fool?"

The flea crawled up the tossing mass of golden hair beside him until he reached the relative safety of Sakenmaru's ear. "Where has my master gone?" he asked. "I have news of great import, I must find him immediately!"

"I... saw him leave by the mouth of the valley with... Ryuukotsusei," Sakenmaru struggled to say. "Augh! Fie on these persistent fiends. A moment." With a roar and a blast of energy seemingly from nowhere, Sakenmaru finally obliterated his three persistent enemies, leaving him clear for a moment though his breath now came in painful wheezes. "Finally, we may speak at... ease," he rasped wryly, clearly far from easy in his crumbling body.

"The valley mouth?" repeated Myouga. "I must go!"

"Wait!" cried Sakenmaru, clapping a hand over his ear and trapping Myouga most unfairly within. "I do not... have very long, I do not think. You may have to carry out Inutaisho's will on my behalf. Rest assured, they are not terribly onerous burdens he has set me. Ask... Toutousai. He knows also, he will help you."

Sakenmaru fell to his knees, breaths coming in great laborious gasps. His skin was terribly pale.

"I will try to survive. I am a stubborn old man. If, however, I do not see tomorrow, tell Inutaisho that I thought him a very good friend... the best."

Myouga brought one of his hands to his heart and bowed as best he could. "I shall, but you must let me go! My news will not bear waiting any longer!"

"Ah, I forgot," rasped Sakenmaru, and laughed gratingly. "I am, after all, an old man." He unclasped his ear and let Myouga out.

The flea bowed low again and wished he had more time to offer his respects, but what he had overheard burned hot in his brain and his legs itched to run for his master.

Saeki was still nearby, standing at a respectful distance and tossing his head in agitation. Myouga remounted and told him to run for the sea with all his might.

He prayed the delay had not cost Izayoi's life already.

xxxxx

Izayoi was being torn apart from the inside.

The child had always been strong and lusty within her, but he had never tried to hurt her before. Now, as if realizing his impending freedom, he was struggling towards it with all his might. She was unsure of whether the smaller pains alongside the breaking agony of her hips were really his claws gashing her, but that was what it felt like-- as if he was tearing his way out of her, tooth and nail.

Her throat bled from screaming but she could hardly feel it.

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru methodically slaughtered his father's enemies ten at a time.

If the future Sesshoumaru saw was to be realized, all such opposition had to be crushed without mercy. He hardly saw the blood or the rent flesh, seeing instead his glorious vision of a Japan brought to heel under his might.

He would save his father from further ignominy by taking all responsibility from him. He could hardly be disrespected for his leadership when he was not a leader, correct?

Sesshoumaru would lead in his stead-- not just the paltry lands his father had clung to for all these millennia, but all of Japan. There was no good reason to have his power checked by three other lords. They were only in his way. He would eradicate everyone in his path, every enemy, until Japan was a place where he could live in satisfaction and peace.

Enemies came, and died, and Sesshoumaru smiled.

xxxxx

Night fell.

The moon rose, white and pure high above the welter of death below. Where there was still snow on the ground, it glared and blinded.

The dog and the dragon were past seeing. They fought by instinct, by ears and nose and the touch of air currents against their skin, far more than they fought with their eyes. It is human to feel helpless when one cannot see, but they were not human; indeed grew further from it with every passing minute. Their other senses were not so weak.

Soon they would reach their bodies' limits and the fight would have to end, one way or another.

Inutaisho knew that Ryuukotsusei felt the same as he did-- there was no glory in a battle won at the furthest ends of exhaustion. By then delivering death to the enemy was almost a formality, not a bright triumph any more. They had passed that threshold already. There was no point in continuing like this.

They staggered apart, drew themselves up, and met each other's eyes in a warrior's farewell.

The next blow would settle it.

Ryuukotsusei lunged for him.

Inutaisho made a decision. He knew he was too weak to win the battle with outright strength. It rankled with his honour which demanded that the dragon die, but there would hopefully be time to deal with that later, after he had won. Instead of meeting him head-on, therefore, he took two steps backward and collapsed into his human form amid the tumbled rocks. They swallowed his tiny body as though he was not even there. Ryuukotsusei could not see him, and it would take several seconds for him to find Inutaisho by smell alone. More than enough time for what he planned.

The dragon roared in frustrated fury. Inutaisho ignored him.

Reaching up, he seized one of his teeth and wrenched it out with a swift, painful jerk. His mouth flooded with blood, bitter on his tongue. The tooth lay in his palm, bloody and entirely unremarkable in this form. No matter. In his demon form, he could not wield a sword, but this was as good as one... if a little unconventional.

He put the bit of bone between his remaining teeth, protruding outwards, clamped down, and with a deep breath exploded back into his demon form. Where before there had been a sad bit of white enamel, now there was a gigantic, razor-sharp fang which was stronger than metal and stronger than stone and stronger even than dragon scales.

Ryuukotsusei lunged at him, too battle-blind to see the new danger, or perhaps seeing it but unable to stop himself with his tired muscles.

Inutaisho leapt forward to meet him.

The fang sank into his armoured hide like it were little more than fish skin, cutting deeply into his heart. He fell back against the cliffside, roaring in shock and pain, and the fang pierced through him completely and buried itself into the stone.

"Sleep," growled Inutaisho. He would kill the dragon, but he hadn't the strength left to cut him apart and scatter the pieces as was needed to truly finish him. "Sleep forever."

The magic of the fang flared brilliantly to life, white and curling red like his clan colours. It wrapped around the dragon in great shining ropes, sinking into the cliff and rooting securely there. The ropes spread like webs, drawing his power back and imprisoning it behind its cage of glowing bars.

With the last of his rapidly fading strength, Ryuukotsusei lashed out with his great claws. Inutaisho was far too tired to dodge it entirely, and the blow opened up the entire right side of his ribcage. Blood instantly drenched his side, gushing with alarming volume down his arm and leg. There was far too much of it. The wind almost immediately began to feel colder where it lanced through his coat to touch his skin. The world spun madly across his vision. He fought the dizziness, but only found partial victory.

Combined with his exhaustion and all the other wounds he already bore... the future grew dim. All he could seem to see was a face, wavering pale and anxious in his darkening vision.

Izayoi.

Inutaisho staggered away from the sleeping body of his enemy to the sea, where he bathed his wounds in the salt water and prayed he would live long enough to see her again.

Overhead, darkness began to devour the moon.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: **I really hope I'm not missing any canon points that need to be taken care of here. If I am, I'd much appreciate it if you'd let me know.

Thank you for reading.


	33. Fall

**A/N: **Not far now. There's probably only two chapters left after this one. :D

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXXIII: Fall**_

**xxxxx**

_For what is it to die,_

_But to stand in the sun and melt into the wind?_

_-Kahlil Gibran_

Myouga looked up at his lord in horror.

The wound on his ribcage was terrible to behold, gaping and full of serpent-poison so that it would not heal.

"My lord," he said, not even certain Inutaisho could hear him through the exhaustion. "Izayoi-sama is in danger. That Takemaru boy has turned the castle against you, and I fear he means ill to the child she bears."

Inutaisho groaned, and collapsed into his human form once again. "I might have known," he growled, clasping one clawed hand over his wound. "This has not been... a good day."

It dawned on Myouga that his lord was making a joke. That was a bad sign.

"The battle in the valley is nearly done," Myouga said truthfully. From what he'd seen on his way out, the taiji-ya had been steadily winning out without the presence of Ryuukotsusei to lead the youkai in an organized fashion. "We must go find your friends and make haste."

"No time for that," gritted Inutaisho. "Get onto my shoulder. We are leaving now."

"If you're heading off, you had better take this with you, Master," said an unexpected voice from the left, gravelled with age and familiarity.

"Toutousai?" said Myouga incredulously. "Why--"

"No time for that, the girl's in trouble. Take this and get a move on, mutt." The swordsmith was suspended twenty feet from the ground on the back of his odd flying cow, dangling something red and clothlike from his spidery fingers.

It hit Myouga that that was the first time he had ever heard Toutousai call Inutaisho 'Master.' Things were definitely not looking good if the crotchety old man was being respectful.

"What is this?" asked Inutaisho, catching the falling garment in between his claws.

"Robe made from fire-rat fur," Toutousai answered in a yell. He was already leaving, back to the battlefield. "It'll protect from most indirect wounds, poison, and of course, fire. Thought the girl could use it... was supposed to be a gift when the pup was born, but seems there's no time to wait. I've got the other half at my cave, almost finished, tell your woman to come and get it in a month or so... catch up to you later!" And he was gone.

There was a moment of silence in which the world seemed to coil against the coming of the next, waiting for a weakness to burst into motion.

It came when Myouga spoke. "Shall we gather your friends now?" he pressed.

The moment broke. The course of all the following ones was decided. Inutaisho shook his head. "As I said, I do not have time for that." But then, despite his words, he paused and tilted an ear to the wind. "Wait. It seems there is one more thing I must do."

Myouga felt him before he saw him, moments before he touched down on the sward behind them. He knew immediately that the boy had overheard their conversation. He felt obscurely frightened, as though he had done something shameful, and burrowed into the safety of his master's clothing.

He wished he was elsewhere. This was not a conversation he had any right to be privy to... but there was no time to run.

Myouga did his best to pretend he wasn't there.

xxxxx

"Are you going, Father?" asked Sesshoumaru, cold as ice.

_If you are, you lose all right to oppose my plans from this point out_, he thought to himself. _You will have abandoned the battlefield for the sake of a mere mortal woman, and you will not be forgiven._

"Will you stop me, Sesshoumaru?" his father asked, almost gently. There was a tone in his voice Sesshoumaru could not identify.

"I will not," he replied without hesitation, "but before you take your leave, I request that you bequeath the swords Sou'unga and Tetsusaiga to me." He would need them when the time came to set his vision to action. Sou'unga had the power to raise hell, and Tetsusaiga had many yet-untested powers which would doubtless come to be useful once mastered. He was certainly powerful without them... but with them, he would be invincible.

He needed those swords, and if his father would not give them willingly...

"And if I refuse?" said Inutaisho, as if reading his mind. "Would you kill me for them, your own father?"

Sesshoumaru remained silent, knowing his father would read his answer in it. His father's honour could not fall further if he were dead.

The dog lord's head lowered slightly. "Do you desire power so much?" he murmured, as though it were a revelation to him.

That did not surprise Sesshoumaru. His father, after all, did not seem to know him very well at all. Nevertheless, he had no time or inclination to explain the truth to a man who would not want to hear it in any case. He remained stubbornly silent.

"Why do you desire power?" Inutaisho asked finally.

Ah, a test. Sesshoumaru recognized the tone of his voice. Passing it would make this much easier, but unfortunately he did not know which answer his father was searching for. To be a good ruler? No. He wanted to rule a good country. He mentally shrugged and decided to tell the truth. "My path is that of a conqueror," he said flatly. "Power is the sole means by which that path can be opened and tread."

"Conquest?" echoed his father.

Sesshoumaru thought he sounded sad. That made him angry. What right did he have to be disappointed in his son when he had fallen so greatly himself?

"Sesshoumaru," Inutaisho continued after a pause, "do you have something to protect?"

The question stunned Sesshoumaru. What point was there in asking that? Better to ask why he thought he was fit to wield the swords, he had already thought up answers to any variation of such a question. Or what he planned to do once conquest was achieved. What was this? One could only protect something weaker than oneself, which meant by nature that such a thing would be a weakness. And unlike his father, Sesshoumaru did not allow himself to have weaknesses.

What a foolish question. "Something to protect?" he repeated, disbelieving and half-hoping he had misheard.

He had not. His father was silent, waiting for his answer.

Sessshoumaru did not know what to say, so he again he decided on the truth. Raising his right arm out to the side, claws tingling with poison, he readied himself for battle. He had committed to taking the swords by force if necessary. He would not back down from that. "I have no need of such a thing."

Inutaisho's head lowered another fraction, the tension frayed wildly, and in that moment Sesshoumaru knew he had made a great mistake.

His father was wounded, yes, but still alive and not yet at death's door. He had power yet, and Sesshoumaru could not stop him from leaving after saying so clearly that he would not. Even if he attacked him now-- from behind, how utterly dishonourable-- his father would throw the swords into the sea before he would give them to him.

Sesshoumaru watched helplessly as his father straightened his back, made the transformation to his demon form, and leapt into the sky without speaking another word.

Before returning to the battle, he stood on the sea-cliff for a long, long time, staring at the space where his father's back had been.

xxxxx

Kiyoko returned to the room carrying a fresh bowl of warm water, a small frown on her broad, plain face. Her hair was neatly scraped back into a bun to keep it out of her way. "My lady, there are men arrayed about the gates," she said. "Who are you guarding against?"

Lost in pain, Izayoi barely comprehended what the midwife was saying until several minutes later. Then the information sank in and she felt herself go suddenly cold. "Men? Whose?"

"Chaoju-sama leads them," Kiyoko answered, perplexed. Her mud-brown eyes were dull with incomprehension. You mean you did not order them?"

"No," whispered Izayoi, and closed her eyes.

She remembered Chaoju. He was loyal to Katsuro from what she knew, _but_-- and the breath stopped in her throat for a moment-- he had no love for youkai. It had been naive of her to assume that all the soldiers would be happy with their lot, defending a demon lord's human consort. A few charismatic words from a leader among them and they would be easily turned against her... as it seemed they had. She wondered now, too late, how deep the treachery ran.

"How many stand at the gates?" she gasped after the next contraction subsided enough to allow speech.

"Easily ten dozen," answered Kiyoko readily, "most of the soldiers and many of the servants. For some reason they said nothing about this to myself, or to old Keigo, who guards this door against all but me while you labour."

Something was terribly, terribly wrong about the entire situation. Izayoi did not know precisely what but her intuition screamed at her to do something, _anything._ "Run, Kiyoko," she said distantly. "Go out the back and up into the hills, as fast as you can. I don't like the feel of this."

"My lady, don't be ridiculous. You are halfway through childbirth, how could I leave you?" the midwife said with a smile, patting her sweat-soaked, distended belly.

Izayoi narrowed her eyes, fighting down her frustration. Kiyoko did not know what she did, could not feel the ebb and flow of intuition as she did. She knew nothing but her duty, which was to stay. It was not her fault that she did not understand why it was important that she run. Taking care to temper her voice with kindness and patience, Izayoi said "Do as I say. Take Keigo with you, and anyone else you find like you-- who were unaware of the orders. Hurry!"

"But-- I--" Kiyoko hesitated, clearly unsure of what to do.

The worst contraction yet seized Izayoi and wrung her dry. Her mouth opened to scream, but her lungs would not work and all she could force out was a strangled gasp. Her eyes rolled back into her head. It seemed forever before it eased and she collapsed bonelessly back onto her pallet, breathing shallowly.

Without the pain distracting her, she heard what she missed before-- footsteps, outside her door.

"Get out, Kiyoko. Now." Her voice was high, weak, hardly a shadow of its usual commanding self, but the order behind it was clear enough.

The midwife nodded, wringing her hands, and bolted out the back door.

xxxxx

Takemaru looked upwards as the light faded unexpectedly.

He saw a moon partially devoured by darkness, and smiled viciously. His sword felt good at his hip, his armour snug and comfortable. There were good omens everywhere he looked. "An eclipse? Such a fitting night for vanquishing mononoke," he murmured, pleased by this new sign.

The youkai would surely fall to him. All of fate aligned in his favour. The demon would die and all that should have been would come to pass, as was right and correct.

Izayoi was his. She would be his forever.

xxxxx

The door slid open near-soundlessly, followed by heavy booted footfalls which crossed the room and stopped directly outside her birthing tent.

"Who is there?" she asked, curiously unafraid although she knew beyond reasonable doubt that whoever this was, it was not a friend. If the soldiers stood outside the gate in revolt, it stood to reason that a soldier in her bedroom would not be here to protect her. Unless...

There was a brief, falling silence. The candlelight flickered, nearly died.

"Setsuna no Takemaru," said the dark figure beyond the curtain in a wonderfully familiar voice.

Izayoi nearly fainted with relief. Exactly the person she'd wanted to see. She would kill him later for being such a stunning idiot, but first she would save his life and that of all the idiots following him.

"Takemaru? Thank goodness. You've come at a convenient time." She tried to harden her voice, but she was too exhausted. It came out in the same weak whisper that seemed to be all there was left to her. She sounded like the fragile princess everyone had been treating her as. It drove her mad, but there was nothing she could do about it. "Take your men outside the gates and get out of here as fast as you can. You know you cannot stand against him."

For a moment, Takemaru was silent.

Silence was not the reaction she had hoped for. Izayoi's throat twisted in undefined fear. Something was wrong with this too, though she just couldn't be sure of exactly what just yet. What was his purpose here? Why precisely had he ordered this revolt? What did he stand to gain that was worth enough to him to stand against someone so much more powerful than him?

The silence swelled, broke. "Izayoi-sama," he murmured, oddly reverent. "I have adored you for a very long time."

The wrongness intensified and abruptly resolved itself. So this was his objective. She had known of his feelings, could hardly have avoided them, but she had never expected them to run so close to madness... for madness this certainly was. She could feel his killing intent radiating through the gauzy curtain between them like a sharp heat. Izayoi racked her brain. Where was the closest weapon? She was hardly in any state to be fighting, but all of a sudden she felt horribly defenseless.

There were no weapons in here, she realized, heart sinking. She'd been far too trusting. She had never imagined that he would prefer her dead over her loving someone else, and now she was going to pay for that naivete.

"Even though," Takemaru whispered, voice clearly communicating his resignation, "your heart has been stolen by a mononoke."

She saw the spear coming, raged helplessly against her weakened state but could do nothing. The pain as it tore into her was unhappily familiar. She recalled the feeling of Inutaisho's claws ripping her apart back within Ryuunomei's barrier, taking the talisman from her. It didn't hurt any less this time. If anything, it was worse, and this time there was no one here to put her back together. Her only relief was that it was too far to the side to have hit her child, and even the angle it was jutting from her with and the slow cut its weight was making down her side would not cause him harm. Her baby, at least, was still safe.

The candle beside her wavered and died. The symbolism would have amused her at any other time.

Takemaru stood and walked to the door, then paused. "My love for you will remain unchanged for all of eternity," he told her. There was regret in his voice. Not much, not nearly enough, but it was there.

For a moment she savagely hoped it tormented him for the rest of his life... but even as she did so, she hoped that life would be long. He was a fool, and mad, but he had been a friend to her once and that was not so easily forgotten. Then, reminded by the pain and the darkening of her eyes, the depth of her current plight dawned on her... and with it came a new feeling.

Rage kindled within her even as her senses dimmed. _No!_ she thought with impotent fury. _I cannot die here, not with my son still unborn! Not without knowing whether Inutaisho is alive or not! Not without knowing how the battle has gone! Not betrayed by the one person I thought I could trust...! This is all wrong. All wrong._

And yet, wrong as it was, all her fury was doing nothing. She could feel the life slipping through and away from her with each hitching breath she managed to suck into her numb lungs.

It was cold. So very, very cold. Even the light on her face was as silver-blue as ice and gave no warmth.

She turned her head to look at the small window from whence the light came. It seemed to take an eternity. Outside the blinds, the last remaining sliver of the eclipsing moon shone brilliant and defiant. Before her eyes, without conscience direction, her hand wandered up to caress the painfully distant, blurring light. Inutaisho's clan crest. So bright, so beautiful... and so terribly, terribly distant. "Beloved," she whispered.

She knew she would never see him again. Perhaps she was already closer to death than she believed... the thought didn't hurt as much as it should. Nothing really hurt anymore, or felt like anything at all for that matter. Everything was dull and colourless and quite detached from her.

Izayoi let her hand fall, shut her eyes, and turned the last of her strength and tattered attention downwards. She _would not_ die with her son still smothered within her belly. Izayoi sucked in her last oddly painless breath and _pushed._

It was all she could do to hold on long enough to feel him slip from her into the freedom she was leaving behind.

xxxxx

By the time her son drew his first breath and used it to scream lustily, Izayoi was far beyond hearing him.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	34. Flame

**A/N: **At long last, this fic is ready for me to finish it. I am truly sorry for the long wait, and grateful for your patience.

I'm sure that by now I've forgotten a hundred little details-- forgive me if I contradict myself in any major point.

Enjoy!

**xxxxx**

_**Chapter XXXIV: **__**Flame**_

**xxxxx**

_there's thunder all around me and there's poison in the air_

_-Great Big Sea_

The night wind was impossibly cold against the blood drying on his fur.

Myouga yammered incessantly in his ear, saying things which were completely obvious and completely useless. "It's impossible! It's too risky! My lord, please reconsider! You have yet to recover at all from the wounds received battling Ryuukotsusei! _Master!_"

Inutaisho appreciated the concern. He really did. However, he was running towards something much more important than his recovery, or even his life. He was running towards something he would die a thousand times over to protect. No paltry wound would stop him from reaching that goal. "I will not allow them to kill my son," he told the flea, hoping that he would take the hint and leave Inutaisho to focus all his attention on running.

Myouga, unfortunately, had never been a master of subtlety. "But--!"

"I do not have long to live in any case," he snapped.

"Master!" cried Myouga, sounding heartbroken.

Inutaisho spared a moment to regret being so sharp with him, but only one. There was so little time left for him that he could not afford to waste any of it by being angry with old friends who only meant well. He did not answer. Instead, he used his remaining breath to run as fast as he could. He had only managed to create a small version of his usual massive demon form, but in a way it was beneficial to him. He could run among the trees instead of having them stab the sensitive pads of his paws. Even if his steps were smaller, obstacles were fewer like this.

Abruptly, the ground ran out beneath his feet. He stood at the edge of a great cliff overlooking the castle he had built to protect his lover, which was now being used to protect his lover from _him_.

"I am coming for you now, Izayoi," he growled, and leapt into the void.

xxxxx

Sesshoumaru looked up to the blood moon and narrowed his eyes.

"What need have I for something to protect? Ridiculous."

But there was a stirring in his heart, a remnant of the little boy who thought his father always right, who wondered now if his father still knew things he did not. He quashed it ruthlessly, but knew deep within himself that the wondering would never die. Someday far in the future, when he was older and wearier and perhaps wiser, it would awaken again to whisper in his ear.

But for today, he was still strong, and there were enemies left on the battlefield to slay.

He turned his back on the silver waves and drew his sword.

_xxxxx_

What little moonlight there was left died. Darkness reigned.

Takemaru looked upwards to where the moon had been until a moment ago and narrowed his eyes. Just then, the ground rumbled ominously beneath his feet. The moment of judgement had finally come. He was not afraid.

xxxxx

Tetsusaiga sang with wild joy as he let its energies tear across the rough road leading to the gates.

Arrows flew at him, but he ignored them. They were nothing, propelled by weak human bows and weak human arms. The most they could do was make him bleed a little more, and compared to the wound in his side, it was like adding raindrops to a thunderstorm. He was already dying. A few more holes could hardly hurt.

"Izayoi!" he cried.

There were feebly stirring bodies all around him, but he hardly spared them a glance. They were mortal, breakable, and they had chosen the wrong side yet again... just like the village army when he had first met Izayoi. If they were not wise enough to understand the balance of power, they were not worth his mercy. Izayoi was worth more to him than thousands of them, and there were only a few dozen here.

"_Izayoi!_"

There was a man walking out of the shadows who did not smell of fear. Inutaisho knew him.

"How courageous of you to come here, mononoke," said Takemaru of Setsuna. "I'm afraid you're a bit too late, however."

The light of the torches was dim, but Inutaisho could see the self-satisfied smirk on his face. Ice spread through his gut. He knew of this man's feelings for Izayoi, and he had seen the capability for madness, but he had never really believed he would give in to it. He had misjudged. He could smell blood on the man-- blood he knew very, very well. "What?" he asked quietly, death echoing through his voice.

Takemaru grinned wolfishly. "I have taken my princess, my Izayoi, to a place where you will never reach her. I, with these hands!"

Despair rolled sickeningly over Inutaisho. He nearly gave up then, but forced himself to stand strong and wait for proof that the man spoke the truth. Even if she was alive, however, he had spilled her blood. Inutaisho would never, ever forgive him for that. "You _fool_," he hissed furiously, and readjusted his grip on Tetsusaiga.

The human-- stupid, more foolish than any language he knew even had a word for-- drew his own sword and clattered across the courtyard towards him.

Inutaisho met him halfway. He was wholly focused on the doorway beyond Takemaru, and barely registered when his battle training adjusted his body and swung Tetsusaiga to cut perfectly through the human's right arm. He didn't spare a moment's attention to make sure he was incapacitated before racing onwards towards the horrifying smell of Izayoi's blood.

Behind him, he heard Takemaru cry "Set the fires! Burn the accursed place down, along with the mononoke!"

Of all the futures Inutaisho had envisioned for this castle, it burning to ash at the behest of one of its protectors was not one he had envisioned. It meant little to him, however, compared with the realization that somewhere within it was a woman he would build a thousand castles for, and that she was bleeding. Flaming arrows struck the roofs and the castle burst quickly into flame. It was made mostly of wood, after all, it was only natural that it would be so weak and perishable. He didn't care. The castle was only a tool to care for that which it held.

The smell of Izayoi's blood was strong on the air... far too strong for it to be simply birthing-blood. His worst fears roared to the forefront and he struggled to keep calm.

"Izayoi," he whispered.

The shoji was aflame. Inutaisho walked through it as though it were not even there, following only his nose and ignoring most of what his skin and eyes told him. In the middle of the room was a silk tent, only just beginning to burn, and from within it came a demanding wail of hunger and fright. He gracelessly tipped the tent off to the side, where it set the floorboards on fire, and stared down at what lay beneath it: Izayoi, side pierced with a crude spear, eyes wide and blank.

She was dead. There was no mistaking the pallor of her skin, the sightless staring of her eyes, the stench of stagnation which seeped from her pores.

For a moment he simply stared down at her, unable to cope with the sight of the person he loved most in the world alongside his son with her eyes filmed over with death. She had always been almost intolerably vibrant, so human and alive he had had much difficulty dealing with the sheer amount of energy she emitted. She had always been constantly in motion, and now she was perfectly, horribly still.

It was wrong. He could not reconcile the staring doll sprawled across the sheets, an infant shrieking unheard between her stained hips, with the swift, bright, compassionate woman he knew.

It was intolerable.

xxxxx

Izayoi screamed and screamed and screamed.

There were only two colours in Hell: blood red and shadow-black. She was blinded and dizzy and surrounded than more people than she had ever met in her life, crowding and wandering and aimless like legged blades of grass. She could not breathe, could not think. There was so much pain. The very air seared her eyes. She closed them. It made little difference.

"Inutaisho," she whimpered. "Beloved!"

But he did not answer.

For an eternity, she wandered among the tortured souls, tortured herself with images of every decision she had chosen wrongly on in her life. Ryuunomei was there, in her sight, no matter which direction she turned in. She wept for him and apologized a thousand times, but he never seemed to hear her. Occasionally she saw her father, who looked unbearably disappointed to her eyes that she could not save him, that she had not come back in time. To him as well she apologized over and over, to no avail.

Endlessly her regrets played before her. She could do nothing to rectify any of them, only watch and weep for the chances missed and the choices badly made.

Over and over again she cried out Inutaisho's name. It soon became like a prayer, meaningless and unanswered but somehow comforting nevertheless.

After a while, she began seeing the face of her son, full of accusation for his abandonment.

Izayoi gave herself up to insanity. It was a small comfort.

xxxxx

Tenseiga moaned at his side. He drew it, too afraid to hope that it could do anything for her in case it couldn't, in which case he would feel this crushing pain twice over and would die hopeless and a failure. The escorts of hell materialized before his eyes, giggling and pawing at her corpse like it was an especially desirable prize.

He growled, then bared his teeth. "Tenseiga," he whispered, "I beg you."

He swung-- once, twice. The creatures cried out and dissipated into the air.

Colour abruptly returned to Izayoi's cheeks. She drew in a harsh, painful breath, and opened her eyes.

The relief which swallowed Inutaisho at the sight was greater than anything he had ever felt. She was alive. He had not come too late. She was _alive_ and in a moment she was going to turn her head and look at him--

xxxxx

She had been there forever. Torment had been her existence for longer than she could remember even when she exerted herself. This suffering, this endless sea of red, was all she had ever known.

And it was dissolving. Izayoi knew a moment of absolute terror.

It was awful, agonizing, but it was all she knew. What would she do without it? What would happen when the pain disappeared? She didn't know, and she was more afraid of that void of knowledge than she was of the fire. For a moment, she held onto the scorched earth with her fingernails, but the force dragging her away was too strong to resist.

Terrified but powerless, she flew helplessly into the red sky.

xxxxx

She stirred before him, reaching out to draw the squalling infant between her legs into her arms. Her eyes were strangely vacant, but his relief was too powerful for him to be concerned about it just yet.

Inutaisho could smell and hear Takemaru coming closer. He had to get Izayoi out of here before then.

She was now struggling to her feet. He drew the red robe Toutousai had given him out of his own robes and draped it over him. If what the swordsmith had said was true, it should protect Izayoi and his son from the conflagration surrounding them. She looked up at him as the fabric settled over him, and there was a hint of recognition and cognizance in her eyes.

The floorboards behind them groaned. Takemaru had reached them.

"If I can take you with me," he raged, "I will have no regrets, even if I am to begin my journey to the afterlife!"

There was a determination radiating from his stiff form that Inutaisho well recognized. It was a warrior's stance, one which said he was willing to face death if it meant victory. He respected it. He had seen it too many times not to. Above and beyond that, he was too weak to run. Standing and facing destiny here was something he could not escape.

"Live," he growled to Izayoi.

xxxxx

She knew this man. He had featured in many of the regrets she had lived through repeatedly in hell. The expression on his face made her chest hurt, though it was a detached pain as she was only marginally aware of her body. "Beloved," her mouth whispered, though she only barely remembered what the word meant.

"Inuyasha," said Inutaisho.

She stared at him, uncomprehending.

He looked back at her, eyes deep with emotions she couldn't remember the names for.

"What?" said Takemaru, at the far edge of her awareness.

Inutaisho smiled. It was so incongruous with the situation that she could not assimilate it at all. Then he spoke. "That is my son's name. His name is Inuyasha!"

"Inu... yasha," Izayoi echoed. The word was important, very important, she had to remember it because it was very, very important. Inuyasha. Inuyasha. With great difficulty, she attached the word to the shrieking thing in her arms. Her son. Her child. Name. His name was Inuyasha. The word belonged to him, she couldn't forget it until he was old enough to remember it, very important, very very important.

"Go now," growled Inutaisho, putting himself between her and the man with the bright sharp sword whose face she knew but whose name she couldn't remember.

She knew the meaning of those words. They made her feel sick. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to stay here beside him where things made some sense, but she knew that the fire was bad and dangerous so leaving was a more sensible choice. It hurt. It hurt so much. "...All right," she whispered, then turned and ran away even though everything within the self she hadn't quite remembered yet told her she didn't want to.

The hallways were mazed with fire, but whatever it was the one she loved had draped over her just as she awakened, it kept the flames away until she burst out of the crumbling halls into the sharp late autumn air. Her legs were tireless. She ran up the mountain to the south. South was Sakenmaru's kingdom, and friendship, and safety. She had to go south. Or was it west, towards Inutaisho's castle? There was danger there, treachery, but if she carried his son?

Izayoi didn't know. She paused at the top of the cliff and looked back down towards the castle she had spent her last year in, just in time to see the flames roar skywards and the timbers collapse into a pile of coiling flame and ash.

She wanted to cry his name, wanted to pour saltwater from her eyes as she vaguely recalled she should in a situation like this, but she couldn't remember how. Instead she stared down at the wreckage of her life and tried to feel.

Sadness was the name of the emotion she knew she should be feeling, but despite all the memories flooding back into her she still couldn't define it. Inuyasha bawled in her arms as she fell to her knees in the dirt and discarded pine needles. Sadness. The tightness in her chest and throat, the burning in her eyes, the sick roiling of her stomach... these belonged to it. Tears went went hand in hand with sadness, she remembered that much. People cried when they were sad. She was sad. She should cry.

The tears would not come no matter how hard she willed them.

Izayoi stared sightlessly into the fire and waited for the grief to find her.

_xxxxx_

He was born in blood, and he died in it, the flames boiling it even as it spilled from him. He could see the black triumph glittering in Takemaru's eyes even as he fell with Sou'unga through his chest, and felt like laughing at his childish pride. Inutaisho's death belonged to one far older and greater than him.

Even this fire was too much to bear. Gathering the last shadow of his strength, he picked himself up off the disintegrating floorboards and stumbled out into the cold night.

The forest welcomed him within its bare, harsh branches. He took a deep breath and transformed. He would die a demon lord, as he had lived, as he had ordered. Myouga would know what to do when he found him.

_Be safe, Izayoi,_ he thought softly. _Live long and happily with our son. I will wait for you when the fire is done with me._

Then he lay himself down on the cold stone and watched the moon come back to life.

**XxxxxxxX**

**A/N: **Thanks for reading!


	35. Flight

**A/N:** Here we find ourselves at last, at the end of our long journey. Thank you for walking with me. It's been a pleasure.

_**xxxxx**_

_**Chapter XXXV: Flight**_

_**xxxxx**_

_Whatever begins, also ends._

_~Seneca saying_

_(Seven years later.)_

Naruka held her and stroked her hair as Katsuro stood on and watched, a solemn child perched on each broad, jovial shoulder. Another farewell. Perhaps the last. "I will ask again, as I ask every time: will you come with us, Izayoi? There is room in our home for you. There will always be room for you."

And as always, Izayoi had no broader answer than 'no.'

She was not happy here in the castle of the West. They were not unkind to her, but Sesshoumaru's disdain seeped down through the occupants to reach her in subtler forms of cruelty, and though she had nothing to complain about she also had no joy of anything... anything but her son.

She put her hand on his head and threaded her fingers through Inuyasha's silvery mop of hair. What little comfort there was could always be found here. "I'm sorry, Naruka, I truly am," she said. "I'm not even sure why myself. I just can't help but feel that it's important he be here, among this half of his people, with his brother. Call it a hunch, if you will. There is destiny here I don't know about."

"I'll never understand those confounded visions of yours," Katsuro said, not unkindly. "If you say you've got to stay, then stay you should. But you're always welcome at our hearth. Remember that."

Izayoi smiled, soft and weary. "I will."

Her friends turned and walked out the castle gate to meet their entourage. Hisui and Menou, their identical dark-eyed sons, turned to look back and wave mournfully. Izayoi waved back with a half-hearted smile. She had seen their future, and the future of the line of demon-slayers they would found, and it was not lovely. But there was a light, very small and wavering but heartbreaking in its pale loveliness, that kept her tongue still. That light had to come. The darkness and blood around it would come with or without them. At least this way there would be love.

She had hoped that with the end of the war and the death of nearly all involved, her visions would calm down and let her rest, but such was not the case. Nothing was clear, nothing was imminent, but there were images. Always the same ones, over and over again, and at the heart of every one was the dark lord with the scarred back. His red eyes burned through her dreams. His name was at the tip of her tongue. That was not, however, Izayoi's battle to fight.

It was Inuyasha's.

Not now, not even soon, but the red-eyed spider lay inevitably in her son's future. It hurt her to know. She wished every day that the visions had not told her, for how could she ever leave him knowing what fate awaited him?

And yet, the illness ate away relentlessly at her bones, and would not be stayed.

She was not long for the world. Her son would have to grow up alone and hunted. Crouching down, she folded her silk-draped arms around his small body and wept silently into his hair.

If only Sakenmaru hadn't died. She didn't dare send him to Katsuro and Naruka-- their own children were boisterous, but soft and breakable in comparison to Inuyasha and his vicious little claws, and his untested strength. He could kill them while innocently playing, and she didn't have time to teach him restraint. It was demons he needed, but there were none willing to take him. Sesshoumaru loathed him, seeing in him every betrayal his father had ever made. The house of dragons was no longer welcoming to her. What others there were were all strangers.

"Come, Inuyasha," she said gently. "We must go on a journey together, just you and I."

"Where to, mother?" he asked, peering up at her through golden eyes-- the exact shade of his father's.

She suppressed the familiar ache in her chest and smiled for him. "Up into the mountains, my darling. Pack what you need. We'll leave tomorrow morning."

He nodded obediently and ran off toward his rooms to do what she asked, a red blur among the grey stones and late evening fog. His hair shone like silver in the fading light.

"Oh, my beloved," she whispered to the rising moon. "I wish you were here. With all my heart, I wish you were here."

The pale face skirting the edges of the trees remained silent as always.

xxxxx

She dreamed, and for the first time in seven years, it was good.

On a hillside, the spring sun warm in her hair, the fragrance of wildflowers all around, she lay with her head on the earth and watched the clouds spinning lazily overhead. The violet tinge of vision-sight was on them, but she thought nothing of it until she felt the presence beside her.

"Mai!" she cried, an old joy rising in her chest.

The lady sat on the grass beside her, careless of her white robes, her pale hair spilling all through the flowers. The expression on her face was kind and glad. "It has been a very long time, Izayoi," she said.

She reached out to run her fingers down Izayoi's cheek, and Izayoi caught them within her own and held tight. "I have missed you, my lady," she said honestly. "As I have missed our lord. Do you know anything of his fate? What's happened to him?"

Sorrow cast a long shadow over Mai's face at the question, and she turned away. "He burned," she replied bluntly, "for a very long time. There was blood on his skin that took oceans of fire to scald away. The lord of hell is pitiless in his compassion for the damned-- he does not flinch from the horror required to wash a soul clean enough to pass through into heaven. Our lord suffered his love in full, for a thousand eternities... and emerged at last radiant and new. He is waiting for you. I have come because he thought himself too likely to reach through the veil and tear you through whole, willing or not."

Izayoi laughed. "Though it hurts to hear that he suffered, I'm glad to hear that it didn't change who he is." Her smile faded, and she leaned forward to lay her head on Mai's shoulder. "I don't know what to do, Mai. I miss him so much, and I am so tired of fighting, but how can I leave my son? _Our_ son? He isn't old enough or strong enough yet."

"Oh, my dear," murmured Mai, stroking her hair comfortingly, "he is your son. He will never be old or strong enough to lay your heart at ease."

"He's only a child!" Izayoi protested. "It can't possibly be right for me to abandon him in a world that doesn't care about him, that hurts him at every opportunity. I can't. I mustn't."

Mai laughed and pushed away to hold Izayoi by the shoulders and shake her gently. "Hush, Izayoi. You are a strong woman, you can be forgiven for your arrogance. Did you really think the choice was up to you? Death is coming for you, whether you wish it or no. I came only to tell you, so that you would not be surprised when you see me next two days hence."

"So soon?" Izayoi whispered. Tears stung her eyes. "I hardly have time."

"Saeki will carry you. You will get there on time. And, Izayoi, I should not tell you this, but I love you so I feel I must-- your son will live, longer even than you have lived at the very least. He will not hate you for losing this last battle."

The tears came in earnest now, bursting from her like they had been pent up within her belly for years. Perhaps they had. She threw her arms about Mai's neck and wept without restraint for many long moments.

Then she pulled away, cleared the wetness from her eyes with her sleeve, and took a deep breath. "I will meet you there in two days. Give me strength."

Mai took her face in her hands and pressed a soft kiss to her brow. "I have none to give, but you have my blessing for whatever worth it has. I look forward to our next meeting."

The hillside faded into mist. Izayoi woke in her dark room, her hair smelling of out-of-season flowers.

xxxxx

The morning dawned crisp and bright, with the edge of winter biting at its heels. The castle had not yet woken, preferring to sleep late and walk later.

She put Inuyasha up in Saeki's saddle before swinging up herself, then swaddled him in the thick layers of silk she wore so he could share her warmth on the long, cold ride. He snuggled into her chest and promptly went back to sleep, his regular breath gusting against her collarbone.

Izayoi's heart lifted just a little as Saeki thundered out of the courtyard to the north and east. The sun silvered the branches and dewy grass of the forest lane leading away toward the mountains, making it look like it was made entirely of green and white crystal.

Saeki's hooves flew with the wind, enchanted as they were, so that the leages between her and her destination vanished with the morning fog.

All through they day they rode, stopping only when dusk fell and the horse's steps grew less sure. They found shelter in the hollow canopy of a great old spruce, huddled up against its mighty trunk, hidden away from any watchers by the low sweep of its green branches against the fragrant forest floor.

When they woke, shivering but rested, they found a fine dusting of frost on the greenery outside the tree-hollow. The world shimmered like crystal.

She could not have asked for a more beautiful last day.

They reached the ruins of the castle at midday. There was little left of the original structure but jutting rotten posts and the occasional scattered foundation stone. The fire had not been merciful. However, behind it up the valley rose a new building, much smaller, built of sturdy logs and pitch. No smoke rose from its chimney. Its occupant had not yet arrived.

"Where are we, mother?" Inuyasha asked, rising from yet another nap to peer blurrily at the world around him.

She smiled. "This is where you were born, Inuyasha. I know it doesn't look like much now, but it was very beautiful, once. Your father built it for me."

"Even that house back there?" he asked, awestruck.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Katsuro built that... for you."

She knew her son had followed her train of thought when he stiffened in her arms and twisted to look up at her. "Me and you, right?"

Though she had had time to come to terms with the pain over the last couple of days, she had not been overly successful. Her throat clenched and she held him tighter. "No, my darling. Just for you."

"You can't leave!" he shouted, clutching her arm and sinking his claws into her flesh unaware. "You can't, mother! I won't let you!"

"Oh, my darling," she whispered, and let her tears fall between them. "My beloved boy. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, but I can't stay."

"_Why?_" he bellowed, betrayal written all over his small, fierce face.

She forced herself to keep looking him in the eye. He deserved to know the truth, as far as she could give it to him-- he was no spoiled noblewoman's brat, coddled and sheltered to keep the cruel beauty and horror of the world out for as long as possible. He was the son of warriors. He could be strong enough for this. "You know that I've been very sick, love?"

He nodded mistrustfully.

"At the end of sickness like these lies something called death. You know what it is, I think, you have sharp ears and you pay attention. It means that I have to leave this place and go to another, one where you can't go until the end of your own life."

"Why can't I go with you now?" he asked, clearly holding on to his composure by a very wobbly thread.

She touched his face, kissed his forehead, rubbed his back through his warm fire-rat _haori_. "Because you must live," she told him, and felt a sudden depth behind her words, like there were two voices speaking through her. She closed her eyes and savoured it, knowing its source. "You must live long, and be a great warrior. There are many trials ahead in your future, but none too terrible for you to face, especially if you find those few bright souls who are willing to help you. Be cautious, run fast, trust no one until they prove themselves trustworthy. You are my son. I know you're strong enough."

"Mother," he whimpered, and buried his face in her chest. "Don't go."

"It's not forever," she whispered. "I promise you. When you've done all you have to do here and it's time for you to pass on, I will be waiting for you. Your father and I both will. But you _must_ live. I've seen that the world will need you, sooner rather than later. You need to be there. On the way, you will find things worth living for. I know it. It feels terrible and cruel right now, I know, but it's only for a while. Chin up. Back straight. You are samurai."

She could feel the terrible struggle going on in her son through her fingers on his back, the tight clenching of his muscles, his heaving, laboured breath. But at the end of it, he sat up straight, dismounted the horse to land in a crouch on the damp grass, then stood up and regarded her with fire in his eyes. Pride had been kindled in his heart. It would sustain him, she hoped.

Izayoi slipped off the horse beside him, knelt on one knee to come to his level, and kissed him three times-- once on each cheek, and last on the forehead.

"I love you, Inuyasha," she said. "Don't forget that. Not ever."

"I-I won't," he said, only the hitch in his voice and the tension in his shoulders giving away how close he was to tears.

She smiled at him, bright as a star, and stood up. "That's my boy," she said. "Go make yourself a fire in the house before you freeze to death."

Despite her order, she felt his eyes on her until she crested the head of the valley and went out of sight. Only then did she allow herself to collapse, the sick-weakness and sorrow both combining to take all the strength from her limbs and leave her limp and hollow on the high mountain ledge. The wind blew over her, knife-sharp, and she felt her body begin to fail. It was familiar, and not entirely unwelcome this time.

Soft fingers touched her shoulders, her hair, and she slipped into trance to find Mai behind her.

"I will catch you," she said. "You will not burn again. You have already paid for your sins, when the spear took you-- now there is only rest awaiting you."

"I am glad," murmured Izayoi distantly. "I'm so very tired, Mai. The weariness seems all there is left of me."

Mai pulls her to her feet, easy as if she weighed nothing at all. "Then leave it," she invited. "Come with me."

"Come with us," echoed another voice, deeper and wonderfully familiar, from her side.

She turned her head to find Inutaisho, as she'd known she would. He said nothing, only held his arms out to her. He looked the same, exactly the same, down to the polished pins in his beautiful, beautiful hair and the crinkled smile on his face.

With a half-stifled sob she threw herself against him, her arms around his neck nearly tight enough to strangle. His arms tightened around her and he buried his face in her neck.

"Oh, my love," he whispered against her throat. "I have missed you so."

The tears choked her so she couldn't answer, couldn't tell him how much she'd yearned for him through the dark stretches of the night, through all the long winters alone, but he understood. The press of his fingers against her spine told her he knew everything.

"There are so many things we have to show you," Mai said when at last they broke apart far enough to face her, their arms still tight around each others' waists. There was no jealousy in her eyes, only joy. "So many wondrous places we have wandered through, so many great beings to introduce you to. I daresay you know one or two of them. So, my dear, are you ready?"

Izayoi looked back at her grey husk, lying on the frost-bitten stone at her feet, and took a deep breath. "I'm ready," she said, and realized even as she said it that she meant it. Her life was finished. She had left nothing undone that could be done. She had wasted nothing.

"Then follow us," cried Mai, and leapt off the ledge.

Izayoi took hold of Inutaisho's hand, and together they followed her into the sky.

_XxxxxX_

**A/N: **I... can't quite believe it's done. After nearly four years. I hope you've enjoyed the trip, everyone, and thank you so much for reading this. Your encouragement gave me the inspiration I needed to keep going. I hope to see you around some other time, perhaps in some other fandom. For now, all my love and fare thee well. :)

-Eia


End file.
